


Bandaid This Tweet

by supernaturalsam1070



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Sex, Excessive use of the word fuck, Fluff, M/M, Speculation, Twitter, also pennylose doesnt exist in this version of IT because Fuck That Guy, eddie falls and it mentions blood and a little bit of puke/fainting, eddie in swishy swoshy shorts, implied stan/patty, it is brief and not serious at all but still, jesus that's the stuff I LIKE baby, richie/stanley kind of ?, runner eddie, that airport photo of bill hader where he's in the vans and chinos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalsam1070/pseuds/supernaturalsam1070
Summary: "“Fuck.” The guy says again and even in the lighting Richie can see the way he turns white as a sheet. “Pause my Garmin-” he grits out before his head lolls and he promptly passes out, Richie barely having time to process and react before he’s cradling the guy’s head in his arms.“Pause your what?” He chokes out, panicked, “Buddy, hey man. Dude. Are you alright? Jesus.” He taps the hot guy’s cheeks a few times with no response before he fumbles in his pocket to find his phone. Patty was going to kill him. Just when he was supposed to be getting back out there with a positive spin on his coming out he’d gone and accidentally murdered someone at 5 am in New York just trying to get coffee. His life could not be more of a joke. He finally manages to pull his phone from his endless, gaping hole of a pocket while still keeping Hot Guy propped when the man’s eyes flutter open again."Or the one where Richie outs himself at 3 AM on Twitter, unintentionally almost murders someone on a New York sidewalk, and falls in love with Eddie Kaspbrak's Instagram.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 53
Kudos: 338





	Bandaid This Tweet

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm Lauren. This is my first IT fanfiction that I'm sharing and I'm so, SO excited. I've been writing it since December! 
> 
> 1) I got this idea when I was running after completing my own back to back marathons and almost eating shit on my neighbors uneven sidewalk ! 
> 
> 2) This is unbeta'd because I have no one to do that for me and I like living life On The Edge
> 
> 3) In an alternative universe this story is actually what happened in chapter 2
> 
> 4) My knowledge of stan Twitter is pathetic and about as good as Jame Ransone's
> 
> 5) I believe in minimal drama & Richie Tozier eating Eddie Kaspbrak out until he cries thank u, next

**August**

**5:13 AM**

_It’s just a talk show appearance,_ Patty had insisted, _you’re just going to promote your next season. Nothing you don’t want to do, Rich._ But if Richie really had it his way he’d be doing the opposite of that. What he wanted to do was seclude himself in the safety of his apartment away from the prying of the media and his fans.It had started with an unplanned tweet. Well actually, it had started with an unplanned favorite on his very public Twitter, the tweet itself coming in the aftermath of the mess he’d created. He’d gone as far to create a fake twitter just so he could avoid situations like this but he’d been tired and very drunk and forgotten to switch accounts. Richie had been lazily scrolling, one hand loosely cupping himself while he used the other to type in the handle of his favorite account. The less than 15 second video of a jacked guy with an enormous cock finishing all over the ass of a much smaller, twinker looking guy had been the pinned video; the caption a link he intended to go back for when he was of sounder mind. The like had only stayed up for a few hours but it was long enough for his fans to have noticed and for Twitter to cause a storm despite it being the middle of the night. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/186630356@N05/49447592856/in/datetaken/)  
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It had been a PR nightmare but Richie had _panicked,_ unsurewhat else to do. It had seemed like his only choice was to unlike the offending tweet and out himself at 3 in the morning. When Patty had called him back three hours later, as he was in the midst of his third panic attack of the night, she’d calmly explained to him he could have easily pretended he was hacked and swept the entire situation under the rug. Which. Yeah, that seemed like a pretty simple way to have avoided the entire situation but Richie was also just so tired. He was so tired of answering the same questions of what type of girl he liked, if he’d ever date a female fan, who the girl in his Instagram story was. That had been a month ago and Richie had been ready to faceplant off the side of the Earth but Patty had every other plan for him. Later that day he’d shared a heartfelt story of his sexuality (Patty approved) from the notes section of his phone on all public platforms and promptly taken 2 weeks off all social media.

 _“Oh sweetie.”_ His mom had said to him through the phone as he’d sobbed while hiding himself under his covers. _“I’m going to come over. Me and dad will fly out to LA tomorrow. I’m looking at tickets now.”_ He’d been unable to stop her, unable to even formulate a response, just desperate for her warm hug and a meal that wasn’t delivered in a plastic bag. 

_“Do you still love me?”_ His voice had hardly reached over a whisper. _“Do you and dad still…are you still proud of me?”_ And then she’d been crying too. 

_“We love you more and more every single day, Richie.”_ She’d soothed his tears. _“We couldn’t be prouder of you. You’re our Rich and we love everything you do.”_ His dad’s soft noise of agreement had come through the line and all three of them had cried together.Then she’d booked them a ticket, made him beef stew and worked with Patty on how he’d manage to enter back into the public eye without talk of his accidental Twitter like but a more positive spin on his coming out. It had conveniently worked out that the promotion for season two of his original Netflix show had been starting up as well, which had brought him to New York for an appearance on the Today Show.

It was his first interview post-coming out and Richie had hardly slept a wink. He’d spent most of the night pacing back and forth in his hotel room, tugging his hair into a frenzied mess before jetting down to the lobby where James, the nightshift host, was tapping a pen to the beat of the music they had playing over the speaker and scrolling on his phone. “Oh!” He shoots up surprised and sheepish when he catches Richie standing there in a pair of worn gray sweats and a neon pink hoodie that said ‘trash.’ on a tongue of a Rolling Stones knock off label across the front. It had been his first merch piece he’d ever designed, back when he was rapidly gaining popularity on SNL. “Good morning, Mr. Tozier! Are you ready for me to call your ride for you?” James probably had a good ten years on him, if Richie had to guess, and Richie was 100% sure that he hated having to refer to Richie as Mr. Tozier as much as Richie hated being called it. 

“No dude, you’re good. I’m just gonna go grab some coffee. I’ll be back soon.” He points to the Starbucks sign that’s lit up across the road. James looks worriedly at Richie’s rumpled appearance and bags that have not so subtly been hidden by Richie’s glasses. “You can call me Richie you know. Mr. Tozier is my older brother.” James just blinks. “My dad’s Dr. Tozier. He’s a dentist.”

“Would you like me to have your coffee sent to your room, Mr. Tozier? That way you don’t have to go out.” James ignores his invitation to refer to him by his first name and the unsolicited family tree talk.

“Nah. I could use the walk.” Richie hates the idea of having one of the night employees having to run and get him anything. Couldn’t think of anything more spoiled than expecting someone to rush to have his White Chocolate Mocha, extra whip, delivered still steaming hot. “Thanks.” He gives a tense smile and heads over to the revolving door. 

“Sorry, Mr. Tozier, those doors don’t work until 7 am. You’ll need to use the side door.” He points to the swinging door next to the revolving and Richie sends another tight-lipped smile over his shoulder as he heads out the correct door, albeit this one a fraction less tense, and promptly slams into someone else. The person he collides with goes stumbling out onto the sidewalk, slamming onto the ground with a hard grunt, the sound of a cellphone skidding across the pavement mixing with both of their curses. Embarrassed Richie immediately stands up, his left elbow stinging and palms aching, and looks frantically at the guy who is still down. 

He’s face first, one arm tucked under his body and the other flung out from where he’d tried to stop himself. The harsh lighting from the hotel lobby and sign coupled with the street lights illuminates a thin guy in a pair of neon orange running shoes and the tiniest black, swishy shorts Richie had ever seen. He feels his mouth go dry as the guy rolls over and his eyes rake over his bare chest; the guy’s stomach tight and a prominent v-cut peeking out above his waistband. “Oh _fuck.”_ The guy whimpers as he sits up. Richie can see his knees are torn to shreds and he’s holding his wrist like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” Richie rushes over and bends down next to him. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, holy shit. Are you good? You’re good.” He does a perfunctory look over the guy’s deliciously hot and tight body looking for any other injuries other than a few bumps and bruises. The scrapes on his knees look bad, though, and Richie kind of wants to gag as the crimson blood trickles down the guy’s shin. “Oh,” Richie winces. “Oh Jesus.” 

“Fuck.” The guy says again and even in the lighting Richie can see the way he turns white as a sheet. “Pause my Garmin-” he grits out before his head lolls and he promptly passes out, Richie barely having time to process and react before he’s cradling the guy’s head in his arms. 

“Pause your what?” He chokes out, panicked, “Buddy, hey man. Dude. Are you alright? Jesus.” He taps the hot guy’s cheeks a few times with no response before he fumbles in his pocket to find his phone. Patty was going to kill him. Just when he was supposed to be getting back out there with a positive spin on his coming out he’d gone and accidentally murdered someone at 5 am in New York just trying to get coffee. His life could _not_ be more of a joke. He finally manages to pull his phone from his endless, gaping hole of a pocket while still keeping Hot Guy propped when the man’s eyes flutter open again.

“Wha?” He blinks unfocused at Richie’s face. “What’s going on?” 

“Dude you fucking fainted. You took one look at your legs and just fucking…bam. You fell, by the way. Well. I mean. I ran into you and that’s why you fell. We both collided and fell together. It’s kind of a cute first meeting if you think about it you kno-“ He’s cut off by the guy adjusting in his arms and trying to sit up; Richie helping with a hand on his bare shoulder, God help him his hand was practically dwarfing the man’s muscled back, and feeling out of breath as the guy turns a set of doe eyes inches from Richie’s face.

“M’bleeding,” Richie doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be a question or not, the guy still the color of a Victorian Ghost Child. 

“A bit.” He winces as he looks back down at the shredded knees. It was going to be a bitch and a half to clean. The guy follows his gaze and then slams his eyes shut, swaying some more before turning fully out of Richie’s arms and puking along the curb. “OH _fuck.”_ Richie winces as the guy gags a steady stream of vomit. “Christ you do not like blood.” Instinctively he reaches out again to rub a comforting hand along his sweat covered shoulder blades. He ignores the twinge his cock gives at the image, reminded that they were literally on the ground of a New York sidewalk and siting next to a pile of puke covered in blood. “Here. Come here, come inside my hotel. Let me help you clean up.” 

The guy still seems in a trance but doesn’t protest as Richie hauls him back to his feet, towering over him, and letting him heavily lean into Richie’s side. His hair is flopping over his forehead, wavy and loose, and Richie is close enough he can count the freckles on his button nose. Cute. So, so, so fucking cute. “My watch!” He gasps and abruptly stops them, with an unknown strength, from moving the ten steps to the door to reach down to the wrist he’d been holding painfully before and clicks a button, the watch flashing and emitting a beep. “Sorry.” He apologizes at Richie’s confused stare, “I don’t want to mess up my data that much.” He shrugs a shoulder and then with most of his weight still supported by Richie he hobbles through the door. 

“James, hey!” Richie smiles at the clerk who’s staring with a pained expression. “Hey, like. Can we get some Band-Aids or something man?” James eyes Eddie’s bare chest and bloodied knees before meeting Richie’s nervous, jittering stare. Richie chews his bottom lip as James’ disdain smears across his bearded face. 

“Would you prefer me to call the on-call Doctor?” James’ voice still professional with a hint of disgust and confusion peppered in. 

“No that won’t be necessary.” Richie says feeling laughter bubble up at the question just as the guy he’s with let’s out a “Yes, that’d be great.” With a hard stare at James who blinks between the two of them. Nobody says anything for a moment and then another, James continuing to flick his eyes between them both while curling and uncurling his fingers towards the desk phone like he isn’t sure who to listen to. 

“Um.” Richie says again. “I think just some Band-Aids and maybe some like, water? And something to clean the scrapes with.”

“Hydrogen peroxide.” The fire hasn’t left the guy yet. “Cotton swabs as well.” James blinks at them again, not moving. 

“Please.” Richie adds on and then James is disappearing through the door behind the desk. “Here, let’s go sit.” They limp their way over to the lobby furniture, a set of navy velvet couches that Richie kind of feels bad he’s dumping someone so sweaty on. Once the guy is settled Richie bends down in front of him to take a better look at his knees. “Aww, not so bad.” He assures as his fingers dance along the guy’s sparsely hairy calf. “Get ya cleaned up in no time.” He smiles and then pulls his hands away as the guy widens his eyes at him without the smile returned. “Uh. So. I’m Richie.” He clasps his hands together and then stands up, swinging them awkwardly by his side. 

“Eddie.” The guy introduces himself. The silence that basks over them is awkward. He can feel how intently Eddie is staring at him and then at the decorative fountain to their left. “So…drugs or old money?” Richie blanches at him, confused by the question.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asks as Eddie’s eyes narrow at him before gesturing around the intricate lobby and expensive furnishing. 

“Well you’re certainly too young to be Wallstreet and judging by your clothing you aren’t headed to a business meeting. Not to mention it’s not even 6 am and you’re awake, so like…which one is it? Are you a drug dealer or do you just have a trust fund?” Eyes wide with how forward Eddie’s questioning is Richie finds himself breaking out into a loud, raucous laugh.

“What?” He says again through the hysterical giggles, not sure if he’s more embarrassed or bemused by the way Eddie is eyeing him like he’s crazy. “No, do you not-” He cuts himself off, hating that he was even going to ask if Eddie didn’t recognize him. But seeing as he was young and Richie knew he had been the center of every news article for the past month he was almost shocked Eddie didn’t. 

“Have manners?” Eddie tries to supply for him, obviously not sure where Richie was going with his previous statement. “Sorry. Usually I do. I’m just shocked. You seemed young and this place is fucking nice.” He gestures around. 

“No, it’s pretty nice.” Richie agrees with tears of laughter still brimming the corners of his eyes. “But I’m not a drug dealer and there’s not a trust fund. I’m…” suddenly he doesn’t want to share who he is. Doesn’t want to break the comfortable banter the two of them have. “I work in TV production.” It’s not really a lie. 

“Oh so like a PA?” Eddie asks him.

“Kind of.” Richie avoids his eyes, placing a hand on his neck hoping to soothe the way it heats up. 

“Cool. Didn’t know they paid so well.” They didn’t. Richie had been a PA for a few years before he’d made it onto SNL and it was some of the worst money he’d ever made. He’d eaten canned chicken for _ages._ He chooses to say nothing but give a shaky nod, chewing on his lower lip again and staring heavily at the floor. “Did that asshole get fucking lost?” Eddie’s questioning breaks him from his own embarrassment at the lie, looking up sharply at how Eddie is wincing and trying to adjust himself more comfortably on the couch. He barks out another laugh at how forward Eddie was. 

“James? That dude hates me, he’s probably purposely taking a long time. Sorry.” He takes a seat next to Eddie. “I’ve got some tissues in my pocket, I can maybe get some of this up now?” _Get it together Tozier,_ he tells himself as his hands shake as pulls Eddie’s thin legs across his own lap. It was going to be really humiliating for both of them if Eddie moved them up half an inch because Richie could feel himself going half-chub in his boxers as Eddie flexes and the muscles of his quads jump. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks and the fire from before had been replaced with a soft and unsure quietness. “I’m so bad with blood. I’m sure you can tell.” 

“I don’t mind.” Richie tells him and pulls out a travel pack of tissues from his pocket. “It’s all I’ve got.” He shrugs. He’d been keeping them on his person at all times because he’d been so prone to breaking down and crying at any random time. It was embarrassing. He dabs at one of the lines of blood, grimacing at how it’d begun to dry on Eddie’s leg and he wasn’t doing much but sticking bits of tissue to Eddie’s sweat dried skin. It’s just then that James comes back out and eyes them warily as he walks over with a first-aid kit. 

“Mr. Tozier.” James looks stricken as he hands over the kit. “Let me know if I can be of any help.” 

“Sure, thanks James.” Richie takes the kit from him and tosses the used tissue onto the coffee table where James cringes as he watches it tumble onto the carpet. 

“Thanks, James.” Eddie smiles up at him and then waggles his fingers at Richie. “Gimmie,” he motions for the kit. “I’ll get the supplies and hand them to you. Help distract me.” 

“You sure you know which ones to get?” Richie eyes him suspiciously as Eddie starts digging through and gathering alcohol swabs. 

“I might hate blood but I only figured that out because I was planning to be pre-med. I took a class and everything.” He passes over the handful of swabs. “Obviously didn’t work out.” He makes a face and chooses to stare at a point on the floor away from his own legs. Richie snorts.

“Obviously.” He goes to open the swab before Eddie lets out a gasp.

“Wait! Here.” He stops Richie with a hand falling to Richie’s shoulder, sending sparks up and down his arm. When Richie looks at him Eddie’s holding a set of rubber gloves. “I’m clean but…you know. Germs and disease and all that jazz.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and Richie has to swallow deeply to stop himself from letting out a whine. So, so cute. 

“Thanks.” He takes the rubber gloves and slides them on before resuming opening the swab and carefully swiping through the streaks, avoiding the scrapes for as long as he can. It takes him 3 swabs to clean up all the blood surrounding the cut before he’s able to work through another 2 on each knee to the scrapes. Eddie, for his lack of ability to look at blood, handles the cleansing well. He’d only let out a few hisses and quiet gasps but was mostly silent as Richie stuck the gauze over the freshly cleaned wounds and then awkwardly patted Eddie’s calf. “All good.” Richie’s voice is hoarse as Eddie wiggles his legs again but doesn’t move them from where they’re sprawled across Richie’s lap. 

“Mmm thanks.” He stretches his arms above his head and Richie has to stare at the ceiling to avoid the way his body goes taut, abdomen flexing and chest glistening. His nipples have pebbled over from the air con in the hotel lobby and Richie has to recite the Lord’s Prayer to avoid thinking about how they’d feel under his tongue. “This run is gonna fucking suck to finish.” But he stands up anyways and winces at the sting. 

“You’re gonna finish?” Richie blanches at the idea of Eddie going back outside to run. 

“Yeah, I only have 3 more left.” Eddie says casually despite the fact that he limps his way to the door. 

“Three blocks?” Richie feels reassured knowing it wasn’t that much further. Eddie laughs, a surprised giggle that makes Richie melt, and shakes his head. 

“Three miles.” They’re standing by the door now and James is eyeing them both with suspicion. 

“Jesus Christ, three more miles?” Richie shakes his head. He couldn’t imagine running three miles to begin with let alone with bum legs. “Let me call you an Uber.”

“No, that’s okay.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m training so I really need to finish otherwise I’ll have to make up the distance this Saturday and I’d rather just finish my speed today. I only have to try on two more miles. Third is my cooldown.” He smiles like Richie has even the slightest clue what he was talking about. 

“Training for what?” Thinking it must be the goddamn Olympics with the way Eddie was describing it. 

“Marine Corps Marathon, this October.” Eddie flushes at Richie’s whistle of surprise. 

“Well I’ll be, aren’t you an athlete?” He teases, “you do know it’s only August. October is still three months away.” 

“Yeah no shit,” Eddie snaps at him, “I’ve been training since May.” Richie wrinkles his nose.

“Why?” He gives Eddie a once over. “You seem pretty fit to me.”

“Running a marathon isn’t about being fit,” Eddie says exasperated like he has this conversation all the time. Richie’s pretty sure he probably does. “It’s about your stamina and endurance. I have to make sure I have a solid distance base.” He’s patient as he gives his explanation. “Otherwise no matter how fit I am I’ll be in an enormous amount of pain and at risk for injury. I’m also trying to qualify.”

“Qualify for what?” Richie follows Eddie back out through the door. 

“Boston!” Eddie looks at him with a determined glint. “I’m going to qualify.” Richie thinks maybe that’s more for Eddie to hear himself rather than Richie but he nods in agreement anyways. 

“Yeah you will!” He doesn’t know what else to say. He has no idea what it takes to qualify, he hadn’t even realized that was a thing. Did people have to qualify for all races? Richie wasn’t sure. His sister once did a race to raise money for kids with cancer and Richie didn’t remember hearing about qualifications but he also hadn’t asked. 

“I should get back to it. I have work and I’m sure you’ve got PA stuff to do.” Richie nods uncomfortably at the notion that he’d be doing PA work. His heart sinks as Eddie adjusts his watch and bends down to stretch. “Thanks again for helping me clean up.” Eddie smiles genuinely at him and reaches out a fist like he’s going for a fist bump just as Richie goes for a high-five. He panics and grabs it in one of massive palms and shakes it up and down. Eddie quirks an eyebrow and lets out a breathless laugh as Richie pumps their arms up and down enthusiastically.

“Anytime Mr. Eddie Spaghetti,” he word vomits and turns crimson at the way Eddie gives a horrified wrinkle at the nickname. “I hope to be seeing yah around!” His voice high pitched and a vague, badly done southern. 

“Right.” Eddie licks his lips and gently pulls his hand free from Richie’s grasp where he’s still shaking it up and down. “See you.” And with that he hits a button on his watch and Richie’s forced to watch the way his legs flex as he heads back down the block and out of sight. 

“Oh fuck.” He whispers to himself. Eddie was so, so cute. He had to see him again.

**

**October**

**3:46 PM**

As it turns out Richie kind of forgets about Eddie. It’s not that he didn’t occasionally have the fleeting moment where the hot guy in the swishy shorts with the gauze pads didn’t cross his mind but things had gotten sort of crazy since his appearance in the Today Show. Patty had been right when she said that they could work his coming out for the better. There were people who sent him death threats and slurs, more so than before, but now he was backed up by an army of teenaged girls and guys who were armed with quick mouths and reaction memes. He’d been featured in magazines, on Ellen, and his Instagram now had over 10 million followers. The release of season two had done well enough that there were whispers of multiple Emmy nominations and he’d even gone on real dates with guys instead of drunkenly paying them not to sell the story of his closet hookups. Richie was, well, happy.

“And don’t forget you and Stan need to walk around some. Get some exposure with him.” Patty doesn’t look up from the iPad. “Tomorrow is the big dinner but we want it out that you’re here with someone.”

Richie rolls over from where he’d been texting on his stomach to get a better look at his assistant. “Why are we trying to lie?” He asks genuinely.

“It’s called creating speculation. Not lying.” She narrows her gray eyes at him as his upper lip curls in annoyance.

“But I don’t see _why_ we need to create speculation? Stan’s my friend. Not my boyfriend.” He’d met Stan through a photoshoot-an LA based photographer that had taken portraits of Richie for Out magazine. His dry wit and smart mouth had Richie in stitches, looking more open in a set of black and white photos than he had in the selfies he sometimes posted on Instagram at Patty’s urging.

“Richie. You’re twenty-eight. People love the idea of you settling down.”

“So? I’m not settled. Especially with _Stan._ ” He winces at how harshly it comes out. Stan was cute, dark curls always gelled well and little sweater cardigans that hugged his muscular shoulders. He was petite but Richie would never classify him as a twink, his angular jaw always lined with dark stubble.

“Stan’s nice, well adjusted to the spotlight and knows how to shut up online.” She glares at him as if challenging him to bring up Tommy, who had not been Richie’s first mistake but certainly his biggest. Tommy had come before his first appearance on the Today Show and Richie had only dated him a month, a dirty secret Richie had felt humiliated he was trying so hard to cover up. It had been long enough for Tommy to ‘expose’ him after he’d come out though, dragging their text messages and pictures onto Instagram and creating forty-minute-long Youtube videos about how badly Richie had treated him when Richie had broken it off. It hadn’t been true, any of it, but it was enough for Richie to have to undergo another PR cleanse that had Patty cross-checking his dates to make sure they weren’t going to run off to TMZ at the first sign of Richie looking to end things earlier than they’d like.

“Ugh can we _please_ not talk about Tommy?” He begs her and grabs the bunchy hotel pillow to shove over his face. “I thought we agreed that was not my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault at all, Richie.” She reassures him and in a very un-Patty like fashion she sits primly on the edge of the bed and pats at his leg. “But it also will help you to look cozy with someone like Stan. We don’t ever have to confirm anything. Just until things with Tommy and the Twitter like start to fade and you’re getting news articles about how much of a gentleman you are.”

“I’m not.” He peeks out from behind the pillow and blinks at her. “I’m not a gentleman.” He feels like crying, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he knows from experience that they’re rimmed red even though he hasn’t really started sobbing.

Patty smiles, the edges of it not meeting her eyes, “I know.’’ She teases, “But we love you anyways.” She pats his leg again and stands up. “Text Stan. There’s a lot to see in D.C. and you two could even do one of those bus tours!” He chucks the pillow at the wall but picks up his phone anyways.

“I’m not going on a fucking bus tour.” He grumbles, typing out _do you want to go on a bus tour_ with a few emoji’s of the smiley face wearing a cowboy hat.

**

**October**

**4:56 PM**

“There’s a festival here in April, the cherry blossom one,” Stan’s hand brushes against his as they stroll along the mall avoiding the hoards of tourists. The flags around the Washington Monument are whipping in the breeze and Richie trembles at the cool air. It had been a blazing 89 degrees that afternoon but had quickly started to decline as the sun began to sink in the west. Stan shivers and Richie considers offering his jacket, thinks Patty would probably like that if somehow one of these groups of elderly women would snap a picture and add it to their update account.

“What do they do at a tree festival?” Richie shoves his hands deeper in the pockets of his jeans and hugs his jacket closer to himself.

“Just have like bands and stuff. People come from all over the world to see them bloom. It’s really pretty. I’d love to come out and take pictures.” He points over to a carousel as it picks up momentum and a jingling tune begins to play. “Wanna ride?” He’s probably teasing but also Richie never really can tell with him.

“No,” He side eyes Stan to catch his reaction. “I’m not allowed within 50 feet of playgrounds.” Stan doesn’t laugh but the corners of his mouth twitch like he finds what Richie’s saying to be something he might look back on as sort of funny. Richie’ll take it.

“I could go for some coffee actually.” They’ve crossed the road and are leaving the mall in the distance. “It’s cold as shit.”

“Yeah, alright.” They head up one of the side streets in hopes of finding a Starbucks. It isn’t hard, this was a city in America, and they only have to travel three more blocks before they spot one nestled in between a Bank of America and an Anthropology store. He holds the door open for Stan, “after you.” He gestures in and then keeps it open for an older couple as they follow in closely behind.

The place is packed and Richie immediately regrets coming into it. Over in the corner is a group of teenaged girls who titter the second they spot him and Stan, point and giggling with their iPhones clutched tightly in their hands. “Looks like you’re making quite the impression.” Stan points directly at them and they all turn bright red at his obtuse display.

“Yeah,” Richie waves at them and tries not to laugh as they let out little shrieks, gaining the attention of the rest of the shop. He should go over and say hello before they can make much more of a scene.

“Think they’ll be there tomorrow night?” Stan asks as they move up another spot in line.

“Huh?” Richie pulls his gaze from the girls and turns to him. “To what? The dinner?” He’d been asked to be one of the hosts at the Out and Proud LGBT dinner, a place where democratic politicians smoozed and chosen celebrities helped run phone lines to raise money for charities that helped with kids who were LGBT and in need. He was still trying to figure out why they’d picked him of all people to be one of the hosts. “Maybe.” He looks again at them and thinks internally probably not. They order their coffee and Richie pays because despite what he told Patty he _is_ a gentleman when he needs to be and those girls are watching them like hawks. He quickly throws an arm around Stan’s shoulders as they step to the side to wait for their names to be called and tries to ignore how unnatural it feels.

“Hi.” The girls have descended upon them. “I’m Becca,” Her voice is shaking as she avoids looking Richie fully in the face. “I loved this season of The Best Things Arrive on Time.” Richie smiles at her and sticks out a hand.

“Awesome! Thanks so much, yeah I thought this season was pretty good too.” She looks up at him, her friends dissolving into giggles still hung back, “But it’s probably just because of my dashing good looks.” She turns crimson as she giggles nervously and fiddles with the beaded bracelets wrapped around her wrist. “Do you have a favorite episode?”

“I really liked the one where you and Renee get together,” It happened in the finale. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“One of my favorites too.” He agrees with her easily, wondering how she couldn’t have picked up on the fact that the characters were going to get together. As much as he enjoyed the show it wasn’t like the writing was anything ground breaking with unforeseen twists.

“I really like your character but Mark is funny too.” Mark was the leading man, the straight man to Richie’s comedy.

“Do you?” He gets it all the time. “I can tell him you say hi.”

“You’re so much better than him!” One of the other girls blurts out, looking stricken. “Um-“ All the girls laugh as she hides behinds her hands.

“Whoa, thank you!” He reaches out and squeezes her shoulder as he laughs. “I can let him know that too.” He teases her as she continues to hide behind her hands.

“Yeah, you’re so funny!” They all exclaim at once eager to please him. “Actually um, could we…do you mind if we get a picture?” Richie nods and looks to Stan, “Can you take them for us Staniel?” Stan’s nose upturns at the nickname but he takes their cameras and they all get a group shot before Richie takes individual selfies with them too.

“Thank you Richie, it was so cool to meet you. Good luck tomorrow!” He gives each of them a hug before they all run out the doors and he watches through the window as they all collapse outside, screaming.

“You’re good at that.” Stan smiles at him.

“You too.” Richie thanks him. “Thanks for not like…freaking out about that. I know it can be weird.”

“They like you. It’s not weird.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I think it’s cool.” Richie feels relieved that Stan wasn’t totally perturbed by the interaction, chest constrictions easing. “Do you want to sit here while we have these? We could walk too, if you wanted. Or just go back to the hotel.” He really hopes Stan doesn’t want to sight see anymore.

“Let’s have them here. I thought we were doing a bus tour?” He looks excited at the prospect. “I can find us a table and look up some times we can go.” And with that he’s off and snagging a table hidden from the entrance. Sighing, Richie listens for his name to be called and reaches forward to grab the steaming cups from the counter. He’s not paying much attention as he turns back to move towards Stan, bumping ungracefully into another person who’s also waiting for their coffee. “Oof, fuck-” he starts.

“Oh shit- ”The guy says and immediately Richie knows that voice. Looking down is tiny Eddie, Eddie from New York Eddie, with perfectly in tact knees and a sporty pullover. He’s skinnier than Richie remembers, jaw more angled and his hair is neatly coifed to one side instead of curling over his forehead. He looks stunning. “Oh!” His Bambi eyes widen as they take in Richie.

“Eddie!” Richie’s heart stutters. “Hi.” Eddie’s got feetless socks on his calves, a navy color and a pair of tiny shorts that are maroon that show the expanse of the thighs that Richie wants wrapped around his throat, his orange shoes have been traded in for a pair of white Nikes. “Love your little socks.” Eddie glances down at his calves with a flabbergasted face.

“Oh uh. These are calf sleeves.” He furrows his brows. “But thank you?” Riche has no clue what a calf sleeve is but he can feel his mouth watering with the desire to drag them down Eddie’s muscled leg with his teeth. “It’s nice to see you again.” He looks less tense than Richie had remembered but that might have to do with the fact that he was upright and hadn’t just fainted in a stranger’s arms. Richie instantly knows he likes this less tense version of Eddie so much.

“Yeah you too! Someday I’m going to run into you and it won’t be literal.” He feels bright, delighted by the way Eddie’s eyes crinkle as he laughs.

“At least I’m not bleeding this time.” He reassures, reaching behind Richie to grab at the drink on the counter. “I really wanted to thank you better for that. It was really great of you.” Eddie’s cheeks are pink.

“Oh yeah, sure.” Richie shrugs it off. “How did the run go? You were okay?” He’d thought about it exclusively for several weeks as he’d jerked off, the way Eddie’s ass had jiggled as he’d taken back off down the block.

“It was fine.” Eddie fiddles with the straw in the cup. “Kind of funny now, honestly. I’m actually running tomorrow! Hopefully you’re not going to be out on the course ready to knock me down.” He’s flirting. He has to be flirting, with the way that he winks at Richie and wets his lower lip.

“Well I can be.” Richie smirks. “Say the word and I’ll be sure to run clear int-” He’s cut off by a dark-haired guy joining the group. He’s good looking, about the same height as Richie in a red cable knit sweater and light jeans with a pair of loafers. His hair is falling into a set of hazel eyes and he blows it back as he slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulder.

“Hey, you got my dr-drink?” He stutters out and leans over without letting go of Eddie to sip from the straw. Richie’s heart sinks to his stomach. “Oh shit, _hey_!” The guy gasps as he gets a good look at Richie. “Yo-you’re Ri-Ri-Richie T-T-Tozier.” His jaw is gaping. Eddie’s brows daintily furrow in as he watches the guy choke on the straw.

“You know him Bill?” Eddie asks his companion. “This is the guy who helped me this summer when I fell.”

“You got knocked down by Richie fu-fu-fucking T-T-Tozier?” Bill’s eyes are saucers as stares down at Eddie.

“I guess?” Eddie looks over at Richie helplessly who is caught between wanting to bolt and knowing he’d look like an asshole if he did. “I’m really sorry. Are you not a PA?” Richie notices the way his nose wrinkles in confusion.

“Uh.” Richie stalls.

"A PA?" Bill snorts looking adoringly fed up with Eddie's confusion. "No, Eddie, what the hell? We gotta work on your kn-knowledge of p-p-pop culture." Bill squeezes Eddie's shoulder and Richie desperately longs to feel the muscles twitch under his own palm. "He’s in that s-sh-show on Netflix M-M-Mike and I watch." His stupid Netflix show that was highly rated. Eddie's eyes widen as he stares at Richie as if he's just seen him for the first time.

"Wait, what?" Eddie squawks. "You're that Richie?" Like Richie was such a common name he couldn’t have possibly made the connection.

"Uh...I guess." Richie mumbles. He eyes where Stan is sitting, absorbed in his phone and ignorant to Richie's dilemma. "So. It was good to see you." He makes a move to walk away, wanting to end the horrible interaction with Eddie and his superfan boyfriend.

"Yeah." Eddie smiles. "You too! I-" The rosy tint of his cheeks make his tan stand out. He is so fucking cute and Richie feels helpless, stuck waiting for Eddie to finish his thought. "I’ve only seen an episode but it was good." He eyes his toes. “It’s pretty funny. I watched it while I ran on the treadmill. I run to the theme song. I like the violin." Funny. Eddie thinks his show is funny. He watched an episode of Richie doing drugs and stripping off in the grass and falling in love over bonfires while he ran on a treadmill. He liked the theme song that Richie had written and sang himself.

"Fiddle." He chokes out. Eddie played his theme song. He hates how the words spill before he can stop himself. "That's uh. I'm playing the fiddle. It's a little different. Sounds like a violin sometimes though. So. You really run to that?" Richie feels lightheaded.

"Oh yeah." Eddie's still pink but he's looking at Richie again. "I didn't realize that you were so," He doesn't finish his thought, eyes trailing from Richie's customized Van's with a tie-dyed toe and polka dot base, up his thrifted straight cut light wash Levi's to his black short sleeve button down that was covered in sunflowers; a pink hoodie unzipped and a navy beanie attempting to hide the tangle of curls. "I just didn't recognize you." He doesn't finish his previous thought.

"That's alright." Richie feels so stupid next to Bill who looks so put together, so perfectly intact for his athletic boyfriend. "I like that." Word vomit again. Eddie smirks though, has to know it's a slight at Bill who is looking at Richie like he's hung the moon. He flicks his eyes over to him and then back to Richie, fat lower lip caught between his front teeth to hold back a laugh when Richie juts his jaw out in a confirming nod.

"Can I get a picture?" Bill interrupts their silent conversation and Richie wants to throw his steaming cup at him.

"Okay, cool. Sure." Richie can hear Patty in the back of his mind urging him to stay polite. Something claws at his chest ripping its way to exit his throat when Bill titters with excitement.

"Bill really?" Eddie glowers. The spitfire from the hotel lobby comes through. "Leave him alone."

"Oh come on Eddie," Bill says back. "Do you mind? It's okay if you don't want to." He doesn't look like he'll be okay if Richie says no.

"I don't mind." He wants Eddie in the picture too. Wants to feel his tiny hand around his hip. "Both of you?"

"Eddie can take it." Bill's shoving his phone into Eddie's hand. "Take it Kaspbrak." Richie burns the name into his memory. Eddie Kaspbrak. He leans into Bill, his fan smile in place, and Eddie snaps the picture with a grumble of annoyance. "Thank you. I love your show man. It’s so rad."

"Cool," Richie winces at how uninterested he sounds. "I'm glad you like it dude." Bill's back in Eddie's space again and Richie feels a possessive tug that doesn't belong in his stomach. His hands feel heavy with the memory of Eddie's thighs clenching under them as he'd cleaned up his wounds. Of course he had a boyfriend. "Uh. This is so embarrassing but…" He hates asking, face flushing and eyes burning. "Are you going to post it?"

"Yeah?" Bill blinks confused. "Is that n-n-not okay?" He lowers his phone down.

"It's okay!" Richie assures. "It's okay. Can you just like, wait an hour or so? I'm just here with someone and I-" He looks over at Stan who's watching him now. Eddie looks over too and Richie doesn't miss the way his shoulders fall. Odd considering he was standing there talking to Eddie’s boyfriend.

“Cool.” Bill doesn’t look put out in the slightest by the request the way some fans were. “I get it dude.”

“Yeah.” Richie doubts he does. Eddie is still staring over at Stan, mouth a firm line and eyes narrowed down. “Well, Eds.” The nickname has Eddie snapping back to look at him, glower still intact.

“It’s Eddie. I don’t really do the whole nickname thing.” Eddie’s not looking at him as he says it.

“Okay then _Eddie,_ ” He emphasizes the name with a smirk watching as Eddie’s mouth twitches before he purses his lips in disinterest. “Good luck tomorrow with your run. Maybe I’ll see you out on the course.” It comes out flirtier than he’d intended.

“Maybe,” Eddie’s watching him carefully. “Hopefully you’re able to wait until the end before you take me out.” He gives Richie a once over that sends a confused shiver through him.

“I’d love to.” It’s just him and Eddie there, Richie stepping in closer to the boy.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smirking now.

“Yeah. Don’t know if I can approach you now without sweeping you off your feet.” Eddie laughs openly at that, hand flying up to cover his mouth in surprise at the giggle he’d released. “Got off a good one!” Richie’s lighter than he’d been in months.

“Sure,” Eddie sweet as adjusts the watch on his wrist fiddling with the strap. “Good seeing you again Richie,” He’s looking meaningfully at Bill whose eyes keep flicking between them.

“You too, Eds.” It slips out naturally. They’re inches from each other and if Richie adjusted himself, stepped one more foot forward, leaned down just right he could press a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s sweet mouth.

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie doesn’t sound put off in the slightest.

“Sure.” Then he forces himself to pull back and step towards Stan. “Until the next fall!” He bows at Eddie who lets out a breathless laugh, shocked by Richie’s display.

“Until the next one.” He waves awkwardly. Richie wonders if he remembers the way he’d gripped his hand and shook it the last time they’d spoken.

“And cool to meet you too, Bill.” He has to say something. He’d been flirting with Bill’s boyfriend the entire time.

“Yeah! Looking forward to your stand-up show, I’m coming to the New York date.” Bill looks ecstatic to tell him.

“Well I’ll see y’all in New York then.” He waves and makes his way over to Stan. Stan pockets his phone when Richie walks up, looking past him at Eddie and Bill who are leaning into each other as they walk out of the Starbucks.

“Friends of yours?” He asks him with an eyebrow quirked.

“Sort of.” Richie doesn’t want to get into it all. “Find any bus tours?”

**

**October**

**1:38 AM**

“M’drunk.” Richie says again to Stan as he hauls him into the elevator of The Mandarin’s lobby, glaring at the front desk host who purses her lips like she’s going to give them advice or condone their behavior entirely. They usually weren’t as friendly with Rockstar behavior in places outside of New York and LA, Richie had found out the hard way.

“You are.” Stan agrees with him. He punches the floor Richie’s staying on and leans Richie against the glass wall. “Your speech was really good, Rich. I don’t know why you’re panicking.” He and Stan might have only been friends a few months but already he could read through Richie more than even Patty.

“It’s still scary.” He looks down at his polished shoes. “M’not even like them and it’s still scary.” At least his parents still loved him and he had a place to go. So many of the kids tonight didn’t.

“It’s not the privilege Olympics.” Stan assures him. “You’re allowed to be scared too.” Richie nods. The elevator doors keep transitioning from two to four and Richie has to close one eye to get them to stop blurring together entirely.

“Hey Staniel I gotta ask you a question.” He slurs together and then pulls out his phone, sliding over to his Explore page on Instagram, having to rest one hand on the rail along the wall so he doesn’t lose his footing. His most recent search is for bdenbrough93 and it takes him right to Bill’s page where he’s shared a total of 9 posts since 2016, the most recent being the one of him and Richie in Starbucks from yesterday. He’d waited well over an hour to post it-it hadn’t gone up until Sunday morning. “Should I follow him?” He shoves the page under Stan’s nose who quirks an eyebrow and looks disinterested.

“Why?” Stan takes the waving phone anyways. “He doesn’t post anything.” He clicks through a few of the photos pursing his lips at the captions. “And his captions are stupid. ‘Dubs were taken?’” He turns the phone so Richie can see the blurry picture of Bill with two other guys, both broad shouldered and unsmiling as they stand in front of a beer pong table in what looks like a dirty basement, an American flag surrounded by Christmas lights hung in the background.

“I dunno…” He’d done some research. He was calling it research. If he called it anything else it would be creepy and weird and he’d look like a freak, he knew he felt like one whenever he really gave thought to what he’d done. But he’d done the biggest no in his profession he could possibly do, searched his name through Instagram and filtered through pages and pages of fan edits until he’d found Bill’s Instagram and _liked_ the photo. He’d really just been trying to zoom in because he thought he could see the reflection of Eddie in the window behind them but he’d dragged wrong and double clicked. If he was going to win another award, he thinks it would be appropriate for it to have to do with his misfortune of liking things he didn’t mean to. But then he’d read the comments and most of them were from his fan pages screaming about lucky Bill was, asking where they’d met, and leaving hearts and flames and there’d been one from Eddie.Kasp12 that had said ‘super fan Bill’ with a little emoji wearing sunglasses. Richie had visited his private page 17 times since he’d left the comment 12 hours ago, willing him to go unprivate so he could look deeper.

“I don’t think you should follow him.” Stan’s hauling ass down the hallway towards their rooms and Richie stumbles to keep up with him.

“Maybe not.” Richie agrees. It would be stupid to follow Bill. But if he followed Bill it would look less weird if he followed Eddie too. He shoves his phone back into his suit breast pocket and follows Stan into his room. He doesn’t bother undressing as he falls back on his bed, watching as Stan hits the button to close the curtains at the window.

“Need anything?” He asks. He doesn’t look like he’s going to follow through with the request either way.

“No.” Richie would like some water but Stan yawns. “You gonna go sleep in your room?”

“Yeah.” Stan eyes him oddly. “Did you want me to stay here?” Richie’s starfished across the sheets.

“Not really.” He’s drunk enough to be honest. “M’gonna follow Bill. Then Eddie.” He pulls his phone back out of his pocket and opens Instagram still left on Bill’s page-hitting the follow button and then going to Eddie’s to hit request.

“Patty can’t say that I didn’t try.” Stan looks exasperated. “You should go to sleep. You’re going to be hungover and we’re going back to LA at 8.”

“Gross,” Richie grumbles. “N’Stan.” He turns over and falls asleep before Stan’s out the door.

**

**October**

**9:04 AM**

Eddie accepts his request. He gets the notification banner ‘ _you are now following Eddie.Kasp12’_ when he wakes up and his heart had jumped out through his throat, instantly rushing to the bathroom to throw up. He vaguely remembers his and Stan’s conversation, Stan’s warning scolding him as he’d brushed his teeth. Discreetly he eyes Stan and Patty from where they’re hunched over her iPad and talking about some news article and sinks lower into his seat, pulling his hood over his brow, swiftly clicking Eddie’s profile to see his photos. His profile was simple, ‘Eddie. 26. 4 out of 6 series, 11x marathoner, 2x ultra runner. Your dad looks cute in those shorts.’ Eddie had updated a lot more often than Bill had. There were _a lot_ of running pictures, but some of him with friends and a few artsy shots he must of taken on vacations. In all of his photos Eddie had the same sweet little smile, big eyes catching the attention of the camera. His latest was a series of photos-starting with a professional one on the course of him running through a puddle in the rain, face determined, and ending with him wrapped in a silver blanket with a huge medal around his neck in front of Iwo Jima; Bill’s arms wrapped around him. ‘Boston 21 gang’ is all the caption said. Bill hadn’t commented or liked the photo which Richie couldn’t decide if it made him angry or relieved.

“What are you doing?” Richie looks up from where he’s slack jawed staring at a picture of Eddie on the beach in a pair of white chubbies and hot pink sunglasses, Patty’s eyes are narrowed on him suspiciously.

“Just on Instagram.” It’s not a lie. He cradles his phone closer to his chest and tugs on his hoodie to more fully cover his beanie.

“Stop being weird.” She glares again at him.

“M’not weird!” He sits up affronted. “You’re being weird. What are you two even doing?” He waves a hand between them. “Talk about creating speculation.” Patty just rolls her eyes and goes back to the iPad that Stan was holding.

“I was getting ready to show Patty my photos from the trip I took to Nepal this summer.” Stan says to Richie gently. “Did you want to see?”

“That sounds like something my grandma would do, so no thanks Stan. I’m good.” He looks down at the bathing suit photo of Eddie, biting his lip at how badly he wants to shove the suit down to Eddie’s knees. “Besides I have some great content right here.” Patty looks up again and this time moves across the aisle to grab ahold of his wrist.

“Jesus Christ Richard Tozier.” She snaps at him as she spots the picture he’s looking at. “What in the world are you doing looking at these random guys on Instagram? Does nothing I do matter to you?”

“Everything you do matters to me Patty, you’re the love of my life.” He smacks a kiss to her cheek and she sputters angrily. “But I think this cutie might be replacing you. This is Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. I knocked him to the ground in New York this summer and he put those tight little thighs right across my dic-”

“Beep beep Richie.” Stan snaps and then joins Patty to flank Richie in the middle of their condescending huddle. “Don’t tell people things like that.”

“I’m just saying. I think I found the love of my life and fate would have it that I actually saw him here in our nation’s capital only to find out he’s dating some fuckwad who has an Instagram caption that literally says ‘da boys’ with a z instead of an s.” Eddie doesn’t have a whole lot of photos with Bill on his Instagram page and Richie tries not to let that get his hopes up. Maybe Bill just wasn’t a big social media user.

“I can’t believe you’re already going for another Tommy when you have someone perfectly willing to keep you company right here.” Patty’s forehead vein is throbbing.

“I told you a hundred times that Stan and I are just friends.” He pats Patty’s thigh. “Besides, all I did was follow him.” Their looks of identical contention have him shrinking back into the leather seat. “Okay. I liked like four fucking photos what’s the big deal?”

“Jesus Christ Rich.” Patty sighs and pulls up her email. “Someday I’m going to prematurely have a heart attack and I blame _you_ for it.” Richie gasps, fake shocked at her annoyance.

“Patty!” He swats at her. “Don’t say that. It’s just an Instagram like. Besides people can’t even see who I follow or what I like anymore. They took the stalker feature off.” He opens back his phone and finds a shirtless photo of Eddie standing in a park, laughing and drenched in sweat. “Look at him.” He sighs dreamily. “Right after a run too. This is how he looked the day he fell.”

Stan reaches over and locks the phone screen, the speaker crackling announcing first class could begin boarding the plane.

**

**November**

**6:22 PM**

**1 New Message from Eddie.Kasp12**

**Eddie.Kasp12:** _Really?_

He likes to think he’s got some pride. A little bit of dignity hidden beneath layers of self-acceptance at the fact that he publicly humiliates himself at least once, if not several, times a week. He really does. But that dignity and pride had been thrown out the window when Eddie had updated his story to an old picture of him in a high school track uniform, posing on a set of bleachers with a goofy smile. He’d instantly messaged, ‘ _such a cutie_ ’ to him without thinking about it. But that had been before Richie remembered Bill, Eddie’s response bringing him to a panic. He’d paced his living room so many times he could see the tracks of his shoes in the fluffy rug. Why the fuck had he sent that? What was he thinking?

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Sorry, wasn’t really thinking about it lol. Totally not appropriate of me. U r cute tho! Haha Good hearing from u again Spaghetti Eddie_

It was better than nothing. He should mention something about Bill, maybe play it off like he’s wasted drunk for the inventible moment Eddie decides to send a screenshot of the conversation to an update account who sends it to TMZ and Patty has a premature heart attack because Richie doesn’t know when to just stop.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _You think I’m cute?_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Please…Spaghetti Eddie? Your worst one yet._

It wasn’t their first interaction through DM’s. Richie had sent a message right after Eddie had accepted him, a stupid GIF he’d found of a deer busting through a bunch of tables and wrecking the entire room. ‘ _Didn’t get to trip ya on the course so I thought I’d fall right on into your DMs lol. Hi Eds.’_ It was stupid and risky and Richie had eaten up the way Eddie had replied back with a GIF of a blonde woman overthinking and blinking. ‘ _That was a terrible line’_ he’d sent beneath it and then instantly requested Richie stop referring to him as Eds which only served to make Richie want to do it more. _How the hell did you find me?_ He’d asked Richie and Richie had made up some lame story about how he’d casually seen Bill’s Instagram post and saw his comment on it. _Lucky coincidence_ he’d joked with Eddie like he hadn’t spent the better part of his Sunday searching desperately for him unable to get the image of Eddie in his maroon shorts and calf sleeves out of his mind. They’d bantered back and forth and Richie found himself actually laughing out loud a number of times at the way Eddie so easily kept up with him in the conversation, trying to remember how Eddie’s hands would cover his mouth when he laughed in surprise.

Richie had been good since then though. Hadn’t messaged Eddie daily (but had messaged him _some_ because he was only human) like he’d wanted to, leaving his pining for the multiple times he watched Eddie’s stories and thought of witty replies he could be sending without actually doing it. But it had been a few weeks and Richie was only so strong.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Yupp u r. Just like ur nicknames_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Spaghetti Eddie…Spaghetidde…Spagheddie?_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _They get worse. How do they keep getting worse? But thank you. I’ve had a shitty week and do not feel cute at all so thanks lol._

 **RealRichieTozier:** _U tell Big Bill he better get better about telling u or I’m gonna publicly call him out for not giving u the attention u deserve_

There. A casual mention that he knows Eddie is off limits while still letting Eddie know he absolutely thinks the moon and stars of him. He should stop. He knows he should stop. Would be livid if he was in Bill’s situation. Eddie was just being nice to him anyways, probably just unsure how to get rid of Richie without fully blocking him. God he needed to find someone to help him from obsessing over this boy.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Sorry u had a bad week. Everything ok ?_

He wonders what Eddie’s job is. Tries to imagine what position he could see him doing, what kinds of clothes he’d wear. Wants to know what Eddie’s commute is like. Does he ride the train? Would he drink coffee from a thermos? Would he participate in casual office Fridays? Did he even work in an office? Richie’s head spins, knows he’s in deep.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _lol as if Bill would ever! Got some deadlines at work, been swamped, and it’s rained everyday this week so I’ve been rotating my running shoes and they’re all gross right now._

Richie doesn’t like the sound of that. Bill didn’t let Eddie know how cute he was every minute he had available? What kind of shitty boyfriend _was_ this dude? He’d choke over how often he told Eddie how cute he was if he had the chance.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I don’t want to complain. Sorry._

 **RealRichieTozier:** _U so aren’t complaining!! What kind of deadlines?_

He leaves the Bill thing alone, he shouldn’t message Eddie about what a bad boyfriend he just assumed Bill was. Didn’t know Eddie well enough to know if Eddie would think that was the line he shouldn’t cross. Besides it wasn’t like Richie knew that to be true. Maybe Bill made up for his lack of affection in other areas. His stomach curled in jealousy at the idea of Bill making anything up to Eddie in any form, desperate to imagine himself in the position.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Nothing big, just got put as a lead on a project and they’ve given us no direction. Such is life as an office grunt._ _🙄_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _What do u do?_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I work for an insurance company_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _No wonder ur so stressed_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _?_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Nothin stresses u out more than a boring as fuck job_ _😉_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Oh fuck off lol at least I have a real job asshole. You just answer questions for a living!_

Richie actually laughs out loud, alone in his apartment, and falls back against his bed. He was in so deep.

**

**January**

**9:02 PM**

Eddie might be his best friend, perhaps even over Stan. He knew Eddie liked sweet potatoes and broccoli after a run, that his favorite color was red, and that he’d drop $150 for a new pair of running shoes but complained when his beer cost more than $6. He took his coffee black and watched the same true crime shows as Richie, bonding over a love of Cold Case and Forensic Files. He knew that Eddie started running in high school, that he was an only child, and that he’d dressed like a ninja for Halloween for years. They talk about everything, everything except Bill, who Eddie steers the conversation away from anytime Richie tries to pry.

“That’s weird,” Stan’s eating Twizzler’s and lounging out on Richie’s couch. “Why doesn’t he want to tell you about his boyfriend?”

“Because some people don’t have to be so involved in their stupid relationships. It’s okay to exist outside of them, you know.” Richie sniffs indignantly as he waits for Eddie to message him back about how work was.

“Yeah but like, he doesn’t tell you anything about Bill.” Stan wriggles the licorice in his direction. “And you’re famous. You have to be careful about that kind of shit.” Richie’s heart clenches at Stan’s advice. It did seem a bit suspicious when Richie put too much thought into it. But Eddie doesn’t seem like the type to use Richie. Their conversations were never about Richie’s status and Eddie seemed genuinely interested in him as a person. He didn’t even know all the characters on Richie’s TV show.

“Maybe he’s just private.” He doesn’t know. “I think I’m gonna ask him if he’s coming to the New York show.” He had a few dates of his stand up tour coming up, just a small one where he was traveling to major cities in the United States. Patty had insisted he bring Stan at least to New York. _It’ll look good for you to go with someone,_ she’d insisted.

“Because that won’t be a disaster.” Stan rolls his eyes kicking his feet up under Richie’s thigh.

“He can bring his loser boyfriend too.” Richie grumbles. “Bill’s great.”

“Oh seems like a real winner, what was the recent one he posted?” Stan clicks resume on The Office. “I think you said, ‘Balls Deep in grASS’” He raises his voice on the ‘ass’ part of grass to emphasize the way Bill had capitalized it under a picture of a putting green covered in golf balls.

“I didn’t say he was smart.” Richie huffs. “I said he was nice.”

“I think you said he was great,” Stan shrugs. “But invite them. You obviously like him.”

“I do,” Richie whines. “So much. I like him _so_ much Stan. Maybe even more than you.”

“Well isn’t that shitty?” Stan punches his shoulder. “How will we ever create speculation if you’re busy homewrecking?” He’s just teasing but it reminds Richie that Patty had said that he needed to post something of Stan to get people buzzing before they went to New York.

“You know I like you the best, whatever.” He shifts and wraps a hand around Stan’s ankle to stop it from kicking him. “Ugh, here. Give me your hand. Patty wants me to post something of us before New York.”

“I’m not holding your nasty whore hands.” Stan snatches them behind his back. “Give me your damn phone. Look at the TV,” Richie watches as Dwight throws multiple snowballs at Jim, faintly smiling, as Stan snaps a picture. He clicks around on Richie’s phone for a few minutes before tossing it back to him. It’s a black and white picture of Stan’s bare legs, toes curled under Richie’s boxer covered thighs, with Richie’s hand loosely wrapped around his ankle. Richie’s eyes are crinkled in it as he laughs at the TV and he looks comfortable. Like he’s just hanging out with his boyfriend. Richie’s heart clenches at the dishonesty of it all, thinks about how it would look to see Eddie’s legs stretched out. Stan hadn’t added a caption.

“It’s good.” He locks his phone.

“I know. It’s my job to make it look good. Besides, I think I have a pretty good subject.” He slides a hand along Richie’s thigh as he tenses. Leaning forward Stan lands a kiss against Richie’s jaw as Richie clenches. It wasn’t that Richie didn’t want to, per say, they’d fucked a few hours ago and it had been okay. Better than okay, really. Stan knew what he was doing and he always made sure Richie was comfortable. But this new aspect of their relationship didn’t feel anymore honest than what they were posting online. He tilts away, jittering at the way that Stan lets out a disappointed huff. Stan stands up, reaching down to grab their drink glasses. “Want another glass of wine?”

“Okay,” Richie curls his legs under himself. Stan doesn’t move from where he’s standing in front of Richie, hands full and gaze heavy.

“Richie.” Richie avoids looking up at him. “I know you like him but as your friend and speculation boyfriend I also need to be honest with you.” Stan’s trying to get him to laugh but Richie only manages to pull a weak smile. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep talking to him. Someone’s going to end up getting hurt and I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

“I won’t get hurt.” Richie’s determined. Stan stares at him until Richie’s uncomfortable enough that he leans around him to watch the TV and avoid any more of the conversation. Without another word Stan walks into the kitchen.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _You two are cute._

Richie’s heart sinks at Eddie’s reply to his story. He didn’t want Eddie to think he was cute with anyone else. And he certainly didn’t want to fool Eddie into thinking that this was a real relationship that he was in. Didn’t like being dishonest with Eddie despite hardly knowing him.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _Not as cute as u and Bill!_

Eddie never posted pictures of Bill in his story, except for an occasional shot from a night out where they were smushed together between a group. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to say. Eddie doesn’t reply until Stan’s back in the room, this time on the other end of the couch, avoiding any contact with Richie.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I guess? Lol_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _That’s pretty different_

Richie doesn’t get how and considers prying, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his skin in a way he hasn’t yet with Eddie. Stan’s chuckling quietly at the TV and the sound puts Richie on edge. He’s met with the strong urge to tell Eddie in that moment how Stan wasn’t really anything more than an odd friendship that he’d been forced to develop. Wants to know what it’d be like to have Eddie on his couch instead.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _How_

Richie should let it go. Should say thanks and move on.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I mean Bill’s just my best friend?_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _What??_

 _Bill’s just my best friend_ glares at him from the screen. His friend. A best friend. Bill wasn’t his boyfriend. Richie’s shaking so hard he knocks one of the throw pillows onto the floor. Eddie was _single._

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I thought you knew that! Haha. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend though. I really don’t keep up with any celebrity news and you like never post but I’m really happy for you! You deserve to be happy._

Richie has to tell him. Has to let him know that Stan wasn’t his boyfriend either. It was too risky through Instagram, though, maybe a bit too confusing to try and explain through a direct message.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _haha yeah_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _so r u going to be at my new York show by chance? Think I can spare some backstage passes for u and ur best friend Bill_ _😉_

He looks over at Stan who quirks a brow at him, swigging from his glass of wine. “Eddie’s single.” He says over the volume of the TV.

“Oh?” Stan looks back at the screen. “What about Instagram Savvy Bill?”

“Just a friend,” Richie scoots closer. “They’re just best buddies and I misread that situation hard. I could have been hitting this for weeks.” He pulls open the picture of Eddie at the beach.

“I mean that’s a bit much. You could have been trying to hit that but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. He lives across the country.” Stan’s picking at a thread on his sleep shorts.

“I’d fly there in a heartbeat if Eddie even slightly hinted he wanted me to.” Richie assures him. “I invited him to come backstage in New York. With Bill.” He looks at Stan. “Bill really is nice.”

“Okay.” Stan snorts. “That’s great, Richie.” He gets up. “I think I’m gonna go tonight.”

“Are you upset?” Richie feels confused.

“No.” Stan walks into the bedroom and comes back out with his bag and a pair of jeans. “I’ll see you when it’s time for New York.”

“Sure.” Richie stands up and follows Stan to the door. “Stan.” He grabs Stan’s wrist. “Please don’t be upset.” He doesn’t even really know why. Stan had been the one to say they needed to be careful about catching feelings if they were going to start fucking regularly. He thought he’d read their situation pretty well. They were both lonely and bored and spending a lot of time together made it easy for a casual hook up every now and then.

“I’m not upset.” Stan takes his wrist back. “Richie.” They stare at each other. “It’s fine.” He opens the door. “See you Thursday.”

It doesn’t feel fine as he watches Stan head out through the door, the echo of it slamming still ringing in his ears long after he leaves.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Bill will actually die_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _surprised you aren’t offering to trip me off the stage, have to be honest. Not your best form._

 **RealRichieTozier:** _no promises mr. spaghetti man. No promises._

**

**January**

**2:30 PM**

**RealRichieTozier:** _u still coming tonight?_

He has a good number of hours until he’s meant to meet with Eddie. He has his actual stand up set to get through and there’s someone from Buzzfeed coming to the hotel to do some game with him in his hotel room before he has to go over for sound check. Really he shouldn’t be stressed about anything with Eddie. Should be focused on how weird things had been with Stan instead. He’d shown up and acted like nothing had happened between them, like he hadn’t left Richie’s apartment in a weird huff and like they hadn’t spent most of December and January fucking. In fact, Stan had resorted to acting like the beginning half of their relationship-friendly with a guard up.

Even now he’s sitting at the desk in Richie’s room, typing on his laptop with airpods in, and wasn’t at all interested in even making small talk. He’d hardly acknowledge Richie’s jokes about the hotel art and his impressions of the show they were watching, not answering any of Richie’s questions about how he’d been or what he was working on. Richie had briefly considered trying to initiate something, thought about crawling across the bed and burying his face in Stan’s jean covered groin but didn’t. Knew he wasn’t being truthful with himself if he allowed it to happen. He liked Stan. But like he’d told Patty so many times over, like he’d whispered to Stan after the first time, Stan wasn’t his boyfriend. He wasn’t really the one who initiated things anyways, much happier to just like Stan take over whenever they were a few drinks in.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _nah sold my tickets to some people Twitter_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _they said something about being your biggest fans and they had their wedding dresses :/. Didn’t want to take away someone’s dreams._

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _I’m kidding you know. Bill’s so excited he’d literally kill me if I decided not to go to this._

He likes him so much. Heart fluttering at the idea of seeing Eddie in the flesh for the third time, this time fully acknowledging that he was single and possibly interested in Richie. It seemed like he was interested in Richie, at least, if their conversations this week were anything to go by.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _glad u sold them. I’ve been looking to get married and settle down and can’t imagine anyone better than some random twitter fans_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Just out here doing the Lord’s work. I’m charitable like that._

“Stan.” Richie says, glancing up at the boy as his typing gets aggressively loud. “Hey man.”

Stan looks up at him only when Richie chucks a pillow at him, missing by a good foot and knocking into the desk instead. He arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Did you say something?” He pulls one earbud out and looks expectantly at Richie.

“I said, ‘hey man’ and your name.” Richie scoots forward so he’s sitting at the edge of the bed.

“You threw a pillow to say hello?” Stan rolls his eyes and goes to put the earbud back in.

“No!” He feels the tension thick in the air as Stan keeps waiting for him to continue. “Are we okay?” he blurts out before he can stop himself. He was going to ask if Stan wanted to order pizza.

“What?” Stan blinks, surprised that Richie was unzipping their baggage so closely to the time the Buzzfeed intern was supposed to arrive.

“Did you want to order pizza?” Richie avoids looking at him, heart racing.

“No.” Stan glares at him and doesn’t say anything. Richie can hear how loudly he’s breathing and it irks under his skin. Wonders if Eddie is a mouth breather too. “Define okay.” When Richie gathers to the courage to look away from the crown molding on the ceiling Stan’s dark eyes are narrowed and he’s closed his laptop.

“You just like…I dunno. You started being all,” he waves a hand around to represent the weird energy Stan had been bringing since that night in his apartment. “You know?”

“I actually don’t know, Richie.” Stan looks angry and that is not what Richie wanted at all.

“I don’t want to fight.” Richie hates that he wants to cry.

“So don’t ask stupid questions.” Stan stands up and starts packing his laptop into the messenger bag he always has.

“I don’t think it was a stupid question.” It felt pretty valid after saying it out loud if Richie was honest with himself. The line of Stan’s shoulders is tense as he turns his back to Richie and messes with the zipper on his bag. “What happened?” He’s quiet as he asks it.

“You really don’t know?” Stan turns to him and his eyes and the tip of his nose are red. His voice is shaking.

“I mean I know you’re upset because I invited Eddie here and that he’s single.” Richie traps his hands under his thighs to hide how badly they’re shaking. “But I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You’re the one who told me that we shouldn’t try and confuse this thing with feelings. I did that Stan.”

“Richie, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Stan rests his hands on his desk like this conversation is taking years off his life.

“You of all people know when I’m not kidding.” Richie tries for light but it just comes out warbled and unsure. Hates the confusion he has in himself.

“Richie. Ever since the first day Jill started asking for me to walk around with you, you’ve done nothing but talk about how we aren’t boyfriends. That you like me as your _friend.”_ Stan turns around to look at him. Shoves his hands in his jean pockets and then tugs them out to run through his hair. “Then all of a sudden we get drunk and have sex and you keep saying it. Keep telling me that we’re just friends. And you keep fucking me and _just me_ while also talking nonstop about some random dude you’ve met twice.” Stan faces the window. “I like you a lot, Richie. But I also know you don’t like me like that. I just said all that because I was trying make it- um.” His shoulders are shaking. Richie considers standing up and putting a hand on them. “I just wanted to make it easier on myself. That’s why I said that.” Said so low Richie almost doesn’t hear him say it. He’s sniffing and each inhale stutters out an exhale.

“I didn’t know.” Richie feels like an ass. “Stan, shit. I didn’t know that. I wouldn’t have been so fucking obtuse if I’d known man.” Stan doesn’t turn around to look at him. Richie feels like a gigantic asshole. The tension in the room feels suffocating, like he needs to open up the door to waft in some comfortable air. “I don’t know what to say except I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry we slept together or sorry you don’t like me?” Stan turns to look at him. His cheeks are wet and he looks embarrassed. Richie knows he doesn’t like coming across as unhinged.

Both, Richie thinks. “I’m sorry that I talked about Eddie in front of you.” He says instead. “I would have been better about it.” He doesn’t know that he would have if he’d known how Stan felt but feels like he should at least say it. Stan presses his lips together and nods, turning back to the desk and grabbing his bag.

“I’m gonna go to my room.” He tells him.

“Are we breaking up?” Richie stands up. He tries to think of how he can make the situation funny but is only met with the overwhelming panic churning his stomach. He does like Stan. Doesn’t want things to be weird between them anymore.

“How are we going to break up?” Stan looks disappointed in him. “We’re not even dating.” He’s bitter as he says it.

“Yeah, that’s-I mean I thought the same thing but Stan.” Richie blocks the door so Stan can’t exit like he’s so desperately trying to. “Just because I don’t like you like you doesn’t mean that I don’t like you. Do you know what I mean?” It’s apparently the wrong thing to say because Stan’s eyes narrow at him and he puts out a hand to push Richie to the side.

“I do.” He chokes. “That’s the fucking problem.” He’s at the door with his hand on the handle, like a wounded animal with the way he hunches over and scrubs his face dry with his free hand.

“That’s not fair.” Richie’s voice is feeble. “I don’t want to be an asshole but that’s not fucking fair Stan.” He glares at him. Stan doesn’t look like he’s acknowledged what Richie’s saying except for the flinch he gives at Richie’s steady tone picking up, “We both agreed that we didn’t want it going anywhere and maybe I’m stupid or emotionally fucking stunted because I didn’t pick up that you were _lying_ about that but if you didn’t want that then you should have been honest with me. I was just doing what we said we were going to. I can’t help how I feel.” He feels anger spiking its way through his chest, burning a hole into his stomach. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you Stan and you can’t be angry that I didn’t get you weren’t with me.” Richie’s shaking now, eyes narrowed on the guy. Stan looks like he’s ready to turn and fight back, like he wants to shout at Richie too, but then thinks better of it.

“I’ll see you later.” Is all he grits out before he slams the door much like he had a week before.

**

**January**

**6:45PM**

Stan doesn’t come with him to the venue for soundcheck. He sends a message in their group chat with Patty that he’s not feeling good but he’ll grab an Uber to be there for the show-like he’d promised Patty he would do. Richie does the Buzzfeed interview, talks to someone named Kelly from some Youtube channel he can’t remember the name of, and eats pizza alone backstage before he soundchecks. He’s still thinking about Stan, guilt heavily weighing on him about the entire situation. In his pocket he can feel his phone buzzing with Eddie’s excited messages coming through. Through the confusion with Stan, the anger still pumping in Richie’s veins, he feels a thrum of eager anticipation at the thought of making Eddie laugh in real life again.

As he makes his way from the stage to the dressing room he’s surprised to see Stan sitting on the couch with a remorseful look adorning his cheeks. “Hey,” He stands up when Richie walks in. He steps back when Richie steps into the room, closing the door carefully behind him, eyeing Stan warily.

“Hi?” He doesn’t like where this could head.

“I want to say I’m sorry.” Stan looks sheepishly at him. Not what Richie expected. “I’m really sorry, man. That shit at your house and in the hotel? That wasn’t how I wanted to do that.” His cheeks are flushed dark red.

“Oh.” Richie blinks at him. “Okay. Thank you. I think I’m the one who should be sorry.” He steps closer to Stan.

“Yeah.” Stan snorts. “You should be.” He at least has his normal deadpan tone. “But not for not liking me. Don’t be sorry about that.” Richie nods.

“I’m not sorry about that.” He’s honest. “But I am sorry I didn’t treat you better in this whole situation. I need to work on being more aware of people’s feelings. Patty doesn’t let me forget that.” They’re toe to toe now.

“I’m sorry I exploded on you.” Stan’s hands are in his pockets and he rocks back on his heels. “I really am happy you’re seeing Eddie tonight and that he’s single. I think um.” He looks up at Richie, “I think I’m gonna tell Patty I can’t do this whole speculation thing anymore.”

“Oh.” Richie inhales sharply. “Yeah, no that makes sense. I get it.” He doesn’t want Stan to leave completely though.

“But I’m okay with trying to be friends?” He’s quietly avoiding looking anywhere on Richie’s voice.

“I like that.” Richie tugs him into a hug, resting his chin on Stan’s head. “I really like being your friend. Shit.” He sniffs. “I hope that’s okay to say.” His eyes well up with tears and he hates how much he’s cried in the last year.

“Yeah stupid.” Stan loops his arms around Richie’s waist. “It’s okay.” They break apart and stare at each other, both of them abashed and snotty. “I know it’s going to be weird and I’m not gonna stand here like I’m not so fucking jealous about Eddie, but I also want you to know that I’m not gonna be shitty about it to you either. Nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy.” Richie loves what a good guy Stan is. Feels so guilty and thankful for how great he always has been to Richie.

“Nothing’s even happened with him. He thinks I’m dating you.” Richie points out.

“You didn’t tell him?” Stan’s disbelief stretching from his arched eyebrow to a slacked jaw.

“Believe it or not, I know that there are some things I should not be putting in an Instagram message.” Richie collapses onto the couch. “Patty would be shocked to know that, obviously.” Stan snorts out a laugh and sits down next to him.

“Pretty sure Patty would never believe you if you told her that.” Richie smirks and pulls out his phone, stomach flipping at the picture Eddie’s sent of himself and Bill in their upgraded seats. He’d forgotten that Bill already had, albeit shitty, seats to his show and had immediately put them down in the pit when Eddie had agreed to the backstage passes.

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _If you aren’t funny tonight I’m leaving and going down the street for a drink. The bar here is asking $12 for a glass of Barefoot._

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _Fucking Barefoot Richie._

Richie wonders if it’s too soon to tell him he loves him.

 **RealRichieTozier:** _All the drinks backstage will be free, promise u. As many glasses of Barefoot as u want_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _What a guy! Bill bought me a Budlight to make up for the sting but it just tastes like the watered-down disappointment my mom had when I told her I was gay_

 **RealRichieTozier:** _U sure u like insurance? Because u can come write for me anytime_

 **Eddie.Kasp12:** _If u steal my jokes I’m exposing u on Twitter for being a fraud. Screenshotting this convo now just for evidence_

“What’s he saying?” Stan looks to him, a sort of morbid curiosity on his face.

“Just letting me know how great he thinks I am.” Richie smirks. Stan leans over to read the messages and side eyes him with an eyeroll.

“I’m just saying that when Patty asks what happened after the next big PR scandal happens you can tell her about the hotel bullshit.” He turns a light shade of pink. Richie snorts and adjusts himself so he can turn his messages away from Stan’s prying eyes.

“I’m hoping not to involve Patty in anything Eddie related quite yet.” Richie assures him. “She’s already told me to stop showing her pictures of him anyways.” Just then Patty’s busting her way in, on the phone with her blonde hair tied in a knot on top of her head.

“Yeah, we can do that. It’s gonna be tight, so add some leeway in case we get caught in traffic. We’ve got another one at 9 and they said it would run about an hour.” She points one of her light pink acrylics at him and mouths ‘get dressed you stupid prick’ as he watches her. She’s still chatting as she sits opposite to them in the egg chair and looks to Stan, her eyes trailing up his legs and blushing when she catches Richie watching schooling her face into a classic Patty Clark uninterested glare. “Stan, you’re feeling better?” Hanging up the phone, she doesn’t look at Richie who glances between them with a delighted smirk appearing on his face.

“Yeah, thanks Patty. Kind of hungry. Did you ever order that pizza?” He looks to Richie who nods and points to the left.

“It’s in the kitchen with my name on it. Go have some.” He shoves at Stan’s shoulder. “In fact, I’ll take ya there.” He stands up and wiggles his eyebrows over his shoulder at Patty as they make their way down the hallway. He slings an arm around Stan’s shoulders, ignoring the part of him saying he should be less touchy. “What do you think of Patty?”

Stan shrugs Richie’s arm from his shoulder and shrugs. “She’s cool.” He narrows his eyes at Richie’s meddling gaze. “Why?”

**

**January**

**10:56 PM**

Before he goes out on stage Richie has a ritual of taking a double shot of Jim Beam and then promptly throwing it up in a side stage trashcan. It’s something he’s done since he was on SNL and something he’s sure he’ll continue to do until he dies of some kind of horrid damage to his esophagus. After the show he’s usually okay. Ready to grab a few drinks, kiss Patty on the cheek while she pretends to hate him, and scroll through his favorite fan accounts to stroke his ego before the hate rolls in. Tonight is different though. He comes off the stage, the roar of applause chasing him as he dashes down the hallway sweating through his leather jacket.

“Fuck.” He looks to Patty who is trailing after him. “Fuck, Patty. I need another shot.” She scoffs and throws a towel at his face.

“Fan service should not require liver damage.” She explains gently but she’s already pouring him a shot.

“This kind of fan service is different. He’s here and he’s coming.” He checks his appearance in the mirror. His hair is frizzing, hates the way he can never get his own curls to gel like Stan does his, and his flamingo button down has pit stains. “Do I have another t-shirt?” He goes over to his bag and manages to pull out an off-white t-shirt with cartoon version of an Ewok that said ‘Ewok it like I talk it’ on the front. It was so stupid. Why did he have to dress like he was a thirteen-year-old boy? But one whiff of his flamingo shirt has him deciding that it was better than his sweat soaked ensemble.

“Who’s coming?” Patty arches a brow at him as he slips the t-shirt over his head and ruffles his hair, digging for a beanie to try and cover his hair.

“Do you think it’s okay that I’m wearing Axe with my Tom Ford cologne?” She watches him frantically spray his chest.

“Are you trying to give someone an asthma attack?” She coughs as he emits a cloud of fragrance. “What is going on with you? Who is here?” She looks to Stan who lazily glances up from where he’s stretched on the couch ignoring the entire situation. “Stan.” She says his name like a command. He flicks his eyes over to Richie and then back to Patty, eyes widening behind his phone and pressing his lips together as he tries to shrink into the cushions.

“Okay. I look okay? I mean I know we can’t fix my face but like the rest of me is cool right? Should I have worn another pair of pants?” His are just a boring pair of straight legged black.

“I wouldn’t ever say any of you is cool,” Stan points out unhelpfully. “But you’re going to be fine as long as you stop freaking out so much. It’s unbecoming.” He sits up and takes a shoulder next to Patty.

“Fuck.” Richie grumbles and looks at himself in the mirror again, hair hidden beneath his hat now. He grabs the chapstick off the counter and tries to hide the appearance of his chewed up lower lip.

“I’m sorry since when do we care how we look for an after show?” Patty looks between them both, steadily more suspicious. “Richie…” She trails off as she looks over her list of backstage guests. “You. Did. Not.” She glares as he tries to innocently wipe away the stage makeup he’d been forced to wear so he didn’t wash out.

“I didn’t.” He plays sincere. “Stan do you have any gum?” He takes the shot and then pours himself another, downing it just as quickly.

“Yeah,” Stan passes him a piece of wintergreen with a tired smile. “He did, by the way.” He looks at Patty with a pitying gaze at her strangled expression. “One lucky Eddie is on his way back here to meet our boy.”

“We’ve already met.” Richie points out. “He brought a friend.” He tries to make it better as Patty’s face gets redder and redder. “And like. They won’t be the _only_ people here. Right? We’ve got a group going. It’s gonna be so cool Patty. You’re gonna love him.” He squeezes her arm and then quickly runs from the room ignoring her scream of his name.

The group of eight fans are waiting for him in the front row. They’ve all got their programs and one girl is shaking as soon as she sees him come out. They all politely cheer as he walks over with a sheepish wave and then hops off the stage, eyes zeroed in on Eddie. Eddie’s in a pair of light wash high-waisted mom jeans, _fucking mom jeans_ Richie snorts, and a cream sweater. He’s cuffed the jeans at the ankle and Richie can see his lavender socks. He looks so effortlessly beautiful Richie’s pretty sure he’s gonna combust in that moment. “Hi,” He tells them. “Thanks for coming! What’s your name?” They go down the line and introduce themselves, Richie purposely smirking when it gets to Eddie and he plays it coy like he hadn’t been sending selfies of himself to Richie’s Instagram all night.

He spends his time with each of them, purposely saving Eddie and Bill for last, taking pictures and joking around while signing their programs and bits of merchandise they’d brought. When he finally makes it down to Bill he looks less like the super boy fan he had when Richie had first met him.

“Hey man!” Richie feels much better about how put together Bill looks in his loafers and khaki pants. “How’s it going?”

“G-Gr-Gr-Great set t-t-tonight.” He stutters as he holds a hand for a high-five. “I really like the b-bit about the v-v-v-vibrator in your backpack.” Richie’d told the story about the time he’d been coming home from a short vacation of visiting his parents, forgetting his vibrator was in his backpack, and had managed to drop it in front of the air hostess when he’d meant to grab for a pen from his bag. It had single-handedly been one of his top five embarrassing moments.

“Shit yeah.” He blushes as he dares to peek at Eddie who’s watching their exchange with an amused smirk but not saying much. “So fuckin’ embarrassing.” Richie doesn’t get embarrassed often about anything but the way Eddie’s watching him has him pink. Wonders if Eddie would be down to use the vibrator on him if he begged. If Eddie would ask Richie to use it on _him,_ pretty thighs wide open and abs flexing like they had in the hotel. He feels himself go a shade darker at the thought. “Did you like it, Eddie?” He’s shy as he blinks at the boy.

“Mmm, solid six and a half out of ten.” Eddie confirms but his eyes are dancing as he watches Richie squirm. “The vibrator story took it up from the four I was _gonna_ give it.” One of the girls, Richie thinks she said her name was Renee, chokes out a surprised laugh and scoff all in one.

“Can I get it to a seven if I tell you I can get you a bottle of Barefoot here right now?” He knows the other fans are watching the exchange, some with tightened glares at the obvious joke they must have missed.

“I don’t even like Barefoot.” Eddie complains as Bill throws his head back with an exaggerated ‘oh my _god_ ’ and Richie feels in control again, even just for a split second.

“What do you like?” Richie steps closer to Eddie, wishes everyone else would leave so he could lift him up on the stage and have his pretty legs around his waist.

“Tequila.” Eddie’s challenging. “And cheap beer.” He adds as an afterthought. “Which you do not offer at this venue.”

“I can fix that,” Richie quotes, eyes darkening as Eddie lowers his gaze under his intensity before looking back up with glowing cheeks. He sucks in a breath, tongue darting out as he drags his gaze from Richie’s chest to his mouth. Lips parting he looks ready to snark back, lowering his legs from where they’d been thrown over the seat in front of him, when Patty comes out on the stage.

“Hi everyone! Thanks for coming tonight. We’re actually gonna go ahead and wrap it up now. Rich, get your pictures.” Richie turns his fan smile back on and goes back down the line giving everyone a hug as they stand and line up to follow the security guard back out into the lobby of the auditorium. Before Eddie can follow suit Richie’s quick to grab his wrist.

“Hang back a minute?” He pitches his voice low. “Like, you can go out with everyone but you and Bill stay around outside? I’ll let you back in. We’re going out to a club nearby and I want you to come.” He can’t help but let his thumb caress over Eddie’s soft skin. Eddie’s eyes flit down to their joint hands and then back to Richie’s heavy gaze.

“Okay.” He whispers. “Just like, stand outside the front?”

“Yeah.” Richie wants so badly to tug him fully against his chest. He forces himself to let go and Eddie runs to catch up with the group, all of them chatting happily together.

**

**January**

**11:52 PM**

Eddie’s waiting exactly where Richie had asked, Bill and him leaning against the glass doors and talking quietly as Richie pops his head out and waves to them. “Hi!” He feels much more at ease as the three of them enter back into the lobby. The nightshift custodians are already halfway done cleaning and the ushers that are supposed to lock up look over at him irritated that he’s still standing around. “Let’s head to the back? We need to get out of here or they’ll never invite me back.” He leads them back into the auditorium to walk backstage again.

“Are you sure that’s not because your jokes suck?” Eddie asks him and Bill jabs an elbow in his side. “What?” He asks and then smirks up at Richie. “I’m kidding, he knows that Bill. I laughed like twice tonight.”

“Eddie Spaghetti which exact jokes did you laugh at because I need to plan to tell them forever?” Richie keeps himself in line with them both, knocking his shoulder into Eddie’s.

“I can’t say. You might think it’s acceptable to try them on Instagram and we can’t have that.” He knocks his shoulder back into Richie’s. They make it backstage where Patty and Stan are waiting in the dressing room, everything packed up and equal looks of impatience mirroring their faces. Richie doesn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before, they’d be perfect for each other.

“Patty, Stan. This is Bill.” He gestures to Bill who shyly waves back, “and Eddie.” He slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders who shoots him a confused glance looking over at Stan shamefaced. Stan just smiles kindly and though it doesn’t reach his eyes, he sticks a hand out.

“Eddie if only I could tell you how much I’ve heard about you.” Eddie shakes his hand.

“Oh!” Eddie looks surprised. “Sorry. I don’t really think Richie’s told me much about you both.”

Patty is eyeing them both with distrust. “He wouldn’t.” She shoots a look to Richie as if to say ‘what the fuck is this?’ and he gives a little shrug.

“We still going to Red 41?” He asks them, quickly changing the subject before Patty can grill either of his guests. “I’m ready to fuckin’ dance.”

“You dance?” Eddie eyes him with such contention it even has Patty snorting behind her hand.

“Oh you won’t believe my moves Mr. Spaghetti.” Richie smirks. “Prepare to be blown away.”

“Well I guess as long as you just mean metaphorically, I suppose I can suffer for the evening.”

“You want me to physically blow you away?” He pitches his voice low, turning to drop his lips to be near Eddie’s ear. He lets out a shiver.

“Richie.” He hisses and looks over at Stan again. “Don’t you…” He trails off as Patty and Stan start talking to Bill, leading the pack out of the building to the Escalade that was waiting to take them to their next destination. He looks put out by bringing up the thought. And that’s right. Richie had to clarify that he was just as equally single.

“I wanted to talk to you about that.” He stops Eddie so that they fall even further back from the group. “Listen. I’m an upfront person, mostly.” He licks his lips nervously, leg bouncing nervously at this. “Stan and I aren’t uh-we aren’t really _together_ together. Like. We just you know. Sometimes.” He feels hot under his collar. “I know you said you don’t pay attention to celebrity press, but I was getting a lot of shit in the media when I first came out.” He avoids looking at Eddie, ashamed by where the conversation was even going. Eddie doesn’t say anything but he also keeps his hand tangled where Richie had grabbed him. “And I kind of needed some good press. Stan’s a good friend and he kind of helped me out with that.”

“Like a fake boyfriend?” Eddie quietly asks him.

“Kind of,” Richie feels stupid. “Patty calls it creating speculation. I dunno.” He shrugs, feeling even hotter and wishing he could climb his way up the wall to get this conversation over with. “Anyways we aren’t together and I’m not.” He glances over at the trio ahead as they exit through the stage door, not paying the two of them any mind. “I’m not fucking Stan anymore. It just happened sometimes.” He pitches his voice low. “I really like you.” He puts himself out on the line. Eddie swings their hands together, hips turned towards Richie as he stares at Richie’s chest-eyebrows and lips turned down in a frown.

“So you’re single?” He looks up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I am so fucking single.” Richie agrees. “I’m really, really single and I really want to take you out and dance with you.” He presses their hips together, pressing his luck. “And I really want to buy you $12 wine. I want to buy you even more expensive wine and dinner if you’ll let me.” His lips are hovering over Eddie’s forehead. Eddie’s hips hitch forward at the statement, his breath catching.

“I like tequila better.” Eddie exhales and then he’s tilting his chin up like he’s asking for a kiss.

“I can buy you tequila, sweetheart.” Eddie lets out a soft squeak as Richie slides one hand onto his hip, the other coming up to cradle the back of his head. “Yeah?” He feels dizzy with want and leans forward to press a dry kiss against Eddie’s lips, hungry but knowing that any moment Patty was going to barge back in and drag him by his neck if he didn’t get Eddie into the car to go. Pulling back, he presses their noses together, Eddie’s eyes half lidded as he stares greedy at Richie’s lips. “C’mon,” He murmurs. “Let’s go dance?” He reaches down to adjust himself, one hand still tangled with Eddie’s own who does the same, both of them flipping their erections into their waistbands with twin smirks in place as they head out to the complaints of the others.

**

**January**

**2:03 AM**

“And honestly? My lifeeeeeee, would suuuuck without youuuuu!” They’re pressed together on the dance floor, jumping around to the beat of Kelly Clarkson. Eddie’s the cutest drunk that Richie’s ever seen, his body flushed a delicate shade and his eyes crinkled as he laughs at Richie’s terrible moves.

“Should I go get our boyfriends?” Eddie teases him, as Richie noses along his hairline, hands firm on Eddie’s waist to ground them both as Eddie tilts his head when Richie catches his earlobe between his teeth.

“Shut up.” Richie huffs out a laugh. “Fuck, you’re so cute. Do you know that? Do you know how cute you are?” He breathes the words against Eddie’s ear and revels in the way Eddie arches into him. 

“Think you should tell me some more.” Eddie’s nimble fingers trail up his arms until they’re looped around his neck. “Think you should tell me in private.”

“Yeah?” Richie can’t help but kiss along Eddie’s throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly when Richie bites down. He lets out a whine, tightening a grip in Richie’s curls. “Yeah baby okay.” He pulls back to grab Eddie’s hand and drag him back over to the roped of booth they were set up in. “Hey!” He shouts up to Patty and Stan who are sitting closely together on the couch, talking with their heads turned in. Bill had disappeared awhile before; arms wrapped a gorgeous redhead Richie thinks was named Audrey but hadn’t really been listening when she’d been introduced into their circle. “I’m going back to the hotel.” Eddie has a finger slotted through his belt loop and he’s still swaying along to the music.

“Need me to call a car for you?” Patty shouts down at him, she’s flushed and sweating, a sure sign that she’s drunk. Stan looks at Eddie and then quickly looks down, downing the rest of his drink in a gulp.

“Can you?” He all but begs, tugging Eddie closer to his side. He wants out of there. Patty’s quick, a car only a minute away, so Richie grabs his backpack he’d taken to the venue and Eddie-bodyguards flanking him. “Hey.” He stops Eddie before they make their way out. “I’m gonna have you go first, okay?” He’s drunk but not stupid, already knowing that there was a wall of paparazzi waiting for him to stumble out. “You go right up to the car and go all the way to the opposite side. It’ll keep you hidden. Just keep your head down.” Eddie blinks at him, wide-eyed nervousness and innocence oozing out of him as he’s pushed to walk out the club.

A larger body guard, Kevin, escorts him out keeping enough distance to not draw attention to Eddie as he heads down the block to their ride. Richie counts to twenty before he goes out, head down and avoiding the massive flash of light that blinds him. He’s flanked by two guys he doesn’t know the name of as they quickly walk him to the same car Eddie had just climbed in.

“Richie! Hey man, how was tonight?” One guy shouts at him as he runs alongside with a camera. “Get any hotties in there?” They trail alongside him as he trips his way over the uneven pavement and their bright lights.

“You good man?” Another teases, running up behind him. “What’d you drink tonight?”

“How was your show tonight Richie?” They’re only held back by the guards who cling to Richie tighter.

Richie just smiles politely at them both, eyes still trained on the ground. “It was great.” His service smile in place. “Had a good night. Show was great. Have a good evening boys!” He’s at the car and the driver is opening the door for him. Suddenly flashes are going haywire, a glimpse of Eddie catching their attention.

“Who’s that? Who you got with you man? You fuckin tonight? You need some condoms?” Someone’s shouting his name repeatedly, another trying to push through to get better shots. Richie climbs in quickly and the driver slams the door shut, rushing to get back behind the wheel. Richie quickly pushes Eddie’s head down, removing him completely from view of the chaos as the driver hightails it down the street and the shouting flashes fade out.

“Sorry.” Richie mumbles, the mood from earlier dissipating with the way Eddie’s trembling. “I know, it’s scary.” He tugs Eddie up to the seat again and links their fingers together.

“How do you do that?” He asks in awe of Richie. “Seriously. They were so rude.” He looks offended for Richie. Richie feels his heart swell in his chest.

“That was them being polite.” He tries to joke and Eddie looks so cross that it has Richie leaning over to kiss him squarely on the mouth. “It’s okay, they don’t bother me as long as they don’t bother you.” He kisses Eddie gently again, who’s nervously watching out the back windshield as they disappear from sight. “Don’t worry about the pictures of you. I doubt they got anything good. I hid you pretty well.”

“How fucking invasive.” Eddie grumbles and Richie laughs. “I’m serious Richie!” He flops back in the seat, looking drunker than he had in the club. Richie feels it, hand sliding up the inside of Eddie’s clothed thigh watching him closely.

“It’s invasive.” He agrees softly.

“I didn’t know you were so famous.” Eddie looks down at the hand on his thigh, spreading his legs apart to accommodate Richie’s wandering fingers. “That first time when I fell? I didn’t know who you were.” He looks sheepish.

“I know.” Richie squeezes his hand tighter. “It was really nice that you didn’t.”

“I mean, even when we were talking on Instagram. It’s like… I saw all the likes and the followers but I guess I didn’t like…make the connection that you were so popular. I watched a few of your interviews.” He blushes prettily. “Just to see. But you just seemed like the goofy guy from the lobby who knocked me out.” He teases.

“I want to be that guy for you.” Richie scoots closer, pressing open mouthed kisses on Eddie’s neck.

“I can’t believe you told me you were a PA.” He tilts his head for Richie to keep trailing up.

“You’re the one who said it. I don’t think I ever actually said I was.” Richie breathes hotly against his chin. “God you’re so pretty.” He feels in awe at the way a delicate hand lands on his hip. “You this pretty all over?” Eddie flushes and turns to catch Richie’s mouth with his own, lips parting as he licks his way into Richie’s mouth.

“You wanna find out?” He mumbles against Richie’s lips.

“Yes.” Richie thinks he could say something about how he plans on it, how he’s literally taking Eddie to his hotel to do just that but his brain short-circuits. Wants to do anything to please Eddie. “Yes, Eddie, please.” He grabs the hand that’s tapping on his hip and presses it to the bulge in his pants, letting out a quiet whine when Eddie’s fingers take up their tapping on the zipper. “Shit, yeah, just.” He looks up at the driver who’s too tense to have not noticed what they were doing. “We close?” He shouts up and the guy nods. Judging by the buildings Richie calculates they’re about a block away. He goes back to kissing Eddie, cupping his face as they make out, thumbs working circles from where they land on Eddie’s cheeks.

It takes them no time at all to make their way up to Richie’s hotel room. The second they close the door Eddie is feral against him, grinding messily onto Richie’s thigh as Richie pins him to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall right as they come in. “Richie, fuck.” Eddie’s toes brush the ground as Richie lunges for him to grind harder against him, mesmerized at Eddie’s quick hips. “Fuck.” Eddie tosses his head back and cracks it against the wall.

“Eddie can I?” Richie’s shaking with need. Doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. Eddie nods, heavy lids as Richie brings him into another heated kiss their mouths slotting together messily. Dragging Eddie away from the wall, Richie presses him backwards until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and dragging Eddie to straddle his legs.

“Your shoulders,” Eddie pants, clinging to them as Richie undoes the buttons on both of their jeans, hands working double speed to strip them both to their briefs. Doesn’t know if he’s going to last much longer. Eddie’s soaked the front of his underwear, turning the white material sheer as it drags across his erection. “Jesus Richie.”

Richie doesn’t answer with his words, gasping his way into Eddie’s mouth as he licks Richie open lips burning and bruising with their intensity. Sliding his hands up Eddie’s back he’s able to shove Eddie’s sweater until his arms are freed and it’s stuck like a scarf around his neck, unwilling to break away from Eddie’s mouth to fully push it off. Using one hand to loop around Eddie’s middle he takes his other to scrape his nails gently up Eddie’s toned stomach, even stronger than he’d remembered it being, until he’s tugging at the dusky rosebud of his nipple. Eddie’s chest had been the haunting image of his fantasies for months after the lobby; his nipples pebbling over as Richie rubs a dry thumb over them scratching and tugging until Eddie’s ripping away from his mouth and keening his name. “Yeah?” He asks him, dropping his forehead to Eddie’s chest as he latches his mouth over the left one, taking it in and tugging it between his front teeth. Eddie gasps and his hands dig tighter into Richie’s shoulders surely leaving little indents as he grinds his hips down onto Richie’s straining erection. “Mmm, know the best part of having a gap tooth?” Richie jokes with him as he kisses his way from the left nipple over to the right to repeat the same movements.

“What?” Eddie’s voice is fluttering, an edge of confusion masked heavily by how turned on he is.

“Can get the nipple stuck right in between it and suck.” Richie wags his eyebrows at Eddie whose head was thrown back until that comment. He seems suddenly sober-eyes wide and slightly disgusted yet filled with mirth and mouth twitching into a smile like he can’t quite understand how to take what Richie is saying.

“Is this your version of dirty talk?” He asks, his hips have slowed down some and it helps lift the fog in the forefront of Richie’s brain.

Using the opportunity to fully tug Eddie’s sweater over his head and removing his own t-shirt so they’re down to their briefs Richie asks, “Is it working?” Dick twitching when Eddie presses harder against his lap, hitching his hips in slow little jerky circles despite how annoyed he looks at Richie.

“I hate that it is.” He admits, cupping Richie’s cheeks in his hands and landing a sweet kiss on his mouth.

“I can keep going.” Richie leans forward to suck a kiss onto the juncture where Eddie’s neck and shoulder meet, skin tasting slightly salty yet the tang of Eddie’s cologne sticking to his taste buds.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Eddie gasps. “Unless you’re talking to me how you’re planning to fuck me into this mattress with your gap tooth.” His words shooting straight to Richie’s groin, painfully turned on and straining from where his dick is caught in his underwear. He jerks his hips up and whimpers, hands grabbing ahold of Eddie’s waist and slamming him down to meet his erratic dry humping.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Fuck, fuck. Yeah. Yeah, Eddie you want me to?” He’s already tugging at Eddie’s briefs frantic to get at Eddie’s cock.

“Is that okay?” Eddie’s sliding off him and stretching out onto his back, tanned and toned thighs spreading to welcome Richie to crawl between them. “You like to top?”

“I do.” Richie agrees with him, catching his thumbs in the waistband of Eddie’s briefs. “I wanna make you feel so good, Eddie, I mean it.” The slower he tugs the briefs down the harder he feels himself getting as if it was any more possible, tip of his own dick peeking out the top of his underwear and rubbing up against his stomach. “Tell me what you like honey.” He whispers darkly, pet name slipping out as Eddie’s own cock is revealed. He’s smaller than Richie by a couple of inches, but thick and pretty-a light pink head shiny and leaking. He’s shaved himself bare except for a neat little patch nestled at the base of his dick, balls pulled tightly up underneath. Richie’s mouth waters. Looking up he sees Eddie watching him carefully, hooded eyes and lips parted as he pants as Richie licks a stripe from the base of Eddie’s cock to the mushroomed head.

“Fuck,” He whimpers, hands slamming down on either side of himself bunching the hotel comforter in his fists. “Fuck me, Richie.” He bows his back as Richie opens and sucks, sliding himself as far as he can down until he’s pulling back up and then bobbing his head back and forth. He lets himself enjoy it, the bitter taste of Eddie’s precum mixing with his spit, getting Eddie sloppy and wet, drooling down on Eddie’s balls as he arches his back and fucks his hips in tight little movements into Richie’s mouth. “Please,” He whines one hand falling to Richie’s hair and tugging. “Please, please, please.” Richie doesn’t know what he’s begging for but he can feel the way he’s frantic against Richie’s face, close to release. He pulls back and blows sweetly on the tip-watching as Eddie’s eyes slam shut and he cries out one hand falling to the base of his dick and the other squeezing Richie’s hair.

“M’gonna open you up,” Richie’s kissing the insides of his thighs as Eddie pants opening them wider until he’s practically hanging them off opposite ends of the bed in a middle split like an invitation for Richie to move his kisses lower. He makes his way from the inside of Eddie’s knee until he’s at Eddie’s balls rolling his tongue along the inseam and then using one hand to press Eddie’s left knee so his legs stay open and the other to cup him out of the way as his tongue rolls from under his scrotum until he’s just grazing over Eddie’s hole. Eddie jumps, practically bending himself in two as he rips his leg from where Richie was holding him open and lets out a hoarse cry as Richie repeats the movement a few times before stopping short and continuing to flick his tongue over Eddie’s hole over and over; never breeching and not firm, just enough for Eddie to feel it and know he could. He pulls back, his own erection screaming with the need to get a hand on it, “Gonna get you wet like that someday, baby. Get your pussy all nice and soaking for me to sink right into. Could eat you all night, make you cum on just on my tongue. Could you do that Eddie?” Eddie’s thrown one hand over his eyes, the other still clinging to Richie’s hair, body flushed and drawn tight.

“Yesss.” He hisses at Richie’s words. “I want you to, please.” He lowers his hand to gaze up at Richie with those doe eyes. Richie’s eyes darken as he looks at him, grabbing himself and giving a squeeze to relieve the ache.

“Yeah?” He needs to get the lube that’s all the way over in his suitcase. “I really wanna fuck baby. I wanna make you feel so good.” He runs his hands from Eddie’s hips down to his knees gentle motions to try and calm both of their nerves. Help stave off the desperate need causing him to rut into the crease of Eddie’s thigh. 

“You can fuck me.” Eddie’s arching his hips to rub up against Richie’s erection.

“Shit,” Richie grabs the waistband of his briefs, standing up and pulling them down as he stumbles his way over to his suitcase on the floor by the window. “Fuck, fuck fuck.” He mumbles, digging through until he finds the tube of KY and pack of Magnums he’d brought along. Turning back around he gasps at the sight of the Eddie, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke, his body glowing in the light coming in from the window. Legs splayed out and parted, Eddie’s abs flex as his cock jerks against them, hips tilted welcoming and expression confident as Richie makes his way back over. “You are so goddamn cute.” Richie swears at him. “So fucking pretty.” He climbs onto the bed and shuffles over on his knees. Eddie lets out a whistle as he lowers his gaze to Richie’s own dick, watching as Richie continues his light strokes.

“Look at you.” He teases a hand over top of Richie’s, tongue catching between his teeth in a smirk when Richie let’s out a high-pitched whine as he fingers the slit. “You’re fucking huge.” Richie groans, feels like he’s about to shoot off like a teenager at Eddie’s mouth and hands, slamming his eyes closed as Eddie kitten licks the tip.

“I gotta fuck you.” He swears, shoving Eddie back and popping the cap of the lube. “I gotta do it, gotta fuckin-Eddie.” He grunts as Eddie follows his lead easily, hissing as Richie slides one lubed finger inside quickly. Richie lays his tongue against Eddie’s nipples, licking sloppily as he quickly works his finger in and out until Eddie’s chasing it with his hip, whining as Richie kisses down his stomach and sucks the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth. Eddie moans, distracted, as Richie slides a second finger in alongside the first. He curls them up, widening and scissoring them apart as he fucks them fast into Eddie before slowing down and curling again.

Eddie goes taut like a bow when Richie brushes up against the lump inside of him knowing immediately that he’s found it. “Ah, fuck. Yes right there!” He screams out hands scrambling against Richie’s back and head as he chuckles around Eddie’s dick, rubbing the spot over and over as he fucks in a third finger while Eddie’s caught up in pleasure. If there was one thing knew he was good at in this world, it was fingering someone open. “I’m ready.” Eddie’s whining as Richie slows his fingers down, teasing along the rim before widening them as he pushes back in and then hooking them in a curl to rub his knuckles against Eddie’s prostate. “Please, Richie if you don’t do it right now I’m going to cum.” He’s got tear tracks on his face, entire body shaking with the need to hold back.

Richie swears, his own cock almost purple at the neglect he’d been giving it all night jumping as he slides the condom down and drizzles more lube over it. “How do you want it?” He asks, hands already manhandling Eddie to turn over onto his knees. “You like it like this?” It’s not his favorite position, but he knows he’s going to lose it quick and he’s needy to be inside Eddie, wants it hard and fast and rough.

Eddie’s just whining and following his ministrations, doesn’t answer his question about how he wants it, dipping his spine and pressing his hips back so Richie’s erection gets caught between his cheeks and snags on his rim. “Mmm, yeah. Richie.” He whines, “Put it in me, wanna feel you.” He’s down on one elbow while the other comes over and blindly reaches to grip Richie to pull him in. “Want it.”

That’s all it takes for Richie to knock Eddie’s hand out of the way, gripping the base of his penis and shoving the head in. He doesn’t push in as hard or fast as he’d like, worries about hurting Eddie even though he knows he’d stretched him enough to take his dick, and the inch by inch sinking in is torturous. Eddie’s all but sobbing, face shoved into the pillow as Richie’s hips pull back out and then fuck back in sinking deeper with each jerk. By his fourth fuck in he’s flush against Eddie’s hips holding him still as he grinds his pelvis against Eddie’s peachy cheeks, his lube slicked rim stretched wide around Richie’s cock.

“Is it good?” He gasps as he holds Eddie still, feels like he’s choking and drowning in the moans that Eddie’s releasing.

“Yeah,” Eddie turns his face so his cheek is pressed down and he can breathe off to the side. “Fuck me.” And Richie does, he pulls back out and then slams in hard, pounding his hips in a brutal pace, unrelenting as he fucks. He can feel his orgasm building, had been staving it off since he saw Eddie in the auditorium in his lavender socks which were still covering his feet, balls drawing tight and heat building in his lower stomach. Angling his hips he changes the pace from the melodic, well-timed thrusts to something more animalistic, Eddie screaming as he nails his prostate with each thrust.

“I’m gonna cum.” He gasps, removing one hand from where he’s bruising Eddie’s hips to reach around him and grab hold of Eddie’s cock. He strokes in time with his thrusts the best that he can, hand and hips sloppy but good as they both grunt. “I’m gonna cum,” Richie repeats again, “Shit, fuck, Eddie. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slams his hips into Eddie’s holding them there and grinding and he spills into the condom, crying out harshly as he falls forward and keeps his hand jerking Eddie.

“Don’t stop!” Eddie begs him hips frantically pushing back against Rcihie. “Please, don’t stop so close.” So Richie doesn’t, gasping at the oversensitivity as he thrusts into Eddie again fucking him deeply and paying close attention to his head, thumbing underneath and applying pressure along the crown. It doesn’t take much longer for his fingers to feel wet, sticky with cum as Eddie screams out and Richie fucks him through his orgasm, feels the way his own cum sloshes back along his dick in the condom. They’re both panting heavily as Richie slows his hips down trying to decide if he could keep going, could keep fucking until they’ve both cum again, but decides against it as he gently as he can pulls out. He grips the base and the condom, holding on as it makes a squelching sound from all the lube he’d used to make the slide easier, other hand on Eddie’s lower back to help guide his hips forward and off Richie’s dick.

Eddie collapses on the bed face down, eyeing Richie as he falls down next to him and ties the condom off, chest still heaving as he tosses it in the direction of the bathroom to grab when he gets up.

“Good?” He whispers as he looks over at Eddie whose watching him with hooded eyes. Eddie reaches out and an arm and tugs Richie close, lips puckering up for Richie to plant a few kisses on.

“Good.” He confirms. “Yeah?” Richie slides his arms around Eddie’s hips to pull him close, eyes falling shut as Eddie scoots closer and tangles their legs together. His head coming to rest on Richie’s chest, arms wrapping around Richie’s body to keep him anchored.

“Fuck yeah.” He agrees, barely able to speak as exhaustion takes over. “I’m so glad you aren’t dating Big Bill.” He whispers into Eddie’s hair, rubbing his finger tips against Eddie’s back.

“Me too.” Eddie agrees with him. “I don’t think Bill can fuck like that.” teasing but it makes Richie tighten his arms around him. Eddie sits up so that he can hover his face over Richie’s, leaning down to kiss him again when their eyes meet. “For the record, I’m pretty glad you’re single too.”

“Yeah.” Richie nods, tracing Eddie’s lips with his index finger. “Can I buy you breakfast tomorrow?” He feels nervous. Giggling, Eddie sits up even more so he can get a better grip on Richie to press another kiss to Richie’s mouth.

“I hope you’re planning on buying me breakfast.” Eddie’s smiling. “As long as you’ll let me get you dinner?” He looks hopeful. “If you’re still here by then.”

“I’m still here.” Richie promises. “And I’d love for you to buy me dinner.”

**

**April**

**3:27 PM**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/186630356@N05/49447710786/in/dateposted-friend/)

“Oh, sweetie look!” Richie holds his phone out to Eddie who’s laying out his singlet and shorts on the chair in their hotel room. He looks up from his running station he’s set up, taking the phone in his hands and then rolling his eyes at the picture he sees.

“I cannot believe you let them photograph you with your hair like that.” He’s just teasing as he says it, coming over to hand Richie back the phone and a kiss, standing between Richie’s spread legs as he sits on the bed.

“I didn’t mean the picture, dumbass.” Richie teases as he locks an arm around Eddie’s waist and rests his chin on Eddie’s stomach. “Look at the comments!” Eddie takes the phone back and reads the comment, cheeks turning pink and lips pressing together.

“How do they know who I am?” He asks accusingly. Richie’d put him on his story one time only, without tagging him, and the internet had collectively lost their minds. With Stan, Richie had never posted his face-speculation just circling the idea that Stan was always with him when he traveled. But Eddie had looked so sweet after a run one morning, resting out by the pool in his orange shoes and swishy shorts that Richie had to take just one picture-Eddie’s face mostly obscured by his sunglasses as he stretched on the chaise lounge with his middle finger up at Richie who took the picture adding ‘wish I got him as hot as a 5mi run in LA does’ underneath it.

Most people were supportive, a few fanatic fans complaining that it wasn’t of Stan and asking more so about him, and then a select group talking about utter nonsense Richie couldn’t ever make out. Though he hadn’t tagged Eddie, hadn’t mentioned his name in any stories, he’d had been open with implying the knowledge that he was no longer single and that his nameless boyfriend was a complete smoke show who he liked very much. “The fans love you.” He teases as he kisses Eddie’s stomach. Eddie eyes him warily and pulls back so he can sit next to Richie on the bed.

“I think most of them hate the fact that I’m not Stan.” He points out, looking to another comment that popped in wondering what happened to Stozier, Richie and Stan’s popular ship name on the internet.

“Fuck ‘em.” Richie shrugs. “This person said I came to see you and was weirdly fucking right. Do you think they’re stalking me?” Richie knows that they are, knows they get ahold of his flight information sometimes before he does. “They said you’re a big runner.” He pokes Eddie’s cheek to get him to smile which he does. “What do you say about that?”

“I’d say what the fuck do they mean by that?” He stretches his legs out towards the end of the bed and Richie knows he has to be hurting. He’d run the Boston marathon 13 days ago and hit his PR.

“Wanna roll?” Four months of dating Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie felt like he could give a tutorial on how to properly care for your running partner. “You sure you wanna do this? You can skip and I can take you sight seeing and run you a hot bath to help out those muscles?” Richie rolls so that he can trail a hand up Eddie’s side and kiss along the shell of his ear. Eddie smiles and kisses his cheek, squeezing their hands together to stop Richie’s wandering.

“You can do all that for me after I run tomorrow and you cheer me on.”

“You know that people are gonna see me there, right? And might see me with you?” He doesn’t want to make Eddie uncomfortable.

“Well aren’t you modest?” Eddie purses his lips teasingly at him, but Richie frowns down at their tangled hands. “Really, Richie it’s okay. I just want you to be there as I finish. I missed you at Boston.”

“I really wish I could have been there babe. I’m so proud of you.” He leans forward to kiss Eddie. “And I’m going to be so fucking proud of you tomorrow too. I made a sign.”

“You didn’t.” Eddie pulls back horrified, eyeing their bags in the corner of the room. “I didn’t see you sneak a sign into that!” He gestures to Richie’s duffle.

“I didn’t.” Richie laughs. “Thought about it though.”

“If you did I’d make you stay back here.” Eddie smiling up from where he’s pinned under Richie, arms looped around Richie’s neck. “I cannot be seen at the finish line with the guy who’s holding the sign that says ‘Almost there-that’s what he said!’ in glitter letters.” Richie fake gasps.

“How did you know that’s what I was going to do?” He kisses along Eddie’s jaw. “Now what am I going to hold up?”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to be like the rest of the spectators, signless and worried about cheering me on.” Eddie tilts so that Richie can kiss up to his ear.

“Well as long as I’m the loudest I don’t really care.” Richie confirms. “And I will be the loudest. I’m gonna run you in the last bit!”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie’s giggling now.

“I’ve been training for it.” Richie assures him. “That last point two? That’s all you and I baby. Hands holding over the finish.”

“If you think I’m stopping or slowing down to grab ahold of your hand for that…” Eddie doesn’t lose his smile.

“Okay, I’ll be honest. I haven’t trained at all for that.” Richie puts on his mock serious tone. “I know you’re disappointed in me coach. Guess you’re gonna have to give me something _extra_ to make up for it.” His lips graze Eddie’s lobe which never fails to make him full body shudder and arch into Richie.

“Richie.” He warns even though his hips are twitching up to rub against Richie’s own.

“What?” Richie plays innocent as he sits back to thumb at Eddie’s shorts he’d worn out on his shake out run. “I’m just tryin to get in good with ya coach!” He channels his 1950 football quarterback voice. “Tell me what I can do!”

“Get off me, first of all!” Eddie shrieks as Richie’s fingers dig into his sides to tickle him. Richie gives him a few good more tickles before collapsing next to Eddie and holding his hand.

“I’m really excited to be here you know.” He turns so he’s propped up on his elbow, looking down at Eddie with adoration etched deep into the lines of his face. Can’t hide how happy Eddie’s made him.

“I’m really excited you’re here too.” Eddie reaches up for his face and cups his cheeks between two warm palms, smooshing his lips into a pout. “You make me so happy Richie.” Richie feels his heart swell, breath caught in his throat at Eddie’s soft confession.

“Yeah.” His brain screaming for him to answer back with a joke. “Same here, Kaspbrak.” He presses their lips together in a close-mouthed kiss. “So happy with you.”

**

**April**

**10:34 PM**

It ends much like it begins. An unplanned tweet to welcome Eddie Kaspbrak publically into the crazy world of Richie’s life. Angry messages from Patty at his lack of tact, a smack from Eddie when he rouses from his post-race nap, and a Facetime from his mother who cries when she finds out he hadn’t told her about his boyfriend.

“But you’re still happy?” He sleepily asks Eddie, watching as Eddie scrolls through the thousands of comments loitering under the selfie Richie had shared of them; the race medal slung around his neck, Richie hugging him from behind, half hidden from where he was kissing the back of Eddie’s rain drenched head as Eddie was pulling away and laughing. Gray clouds cover the background but do nothing to dull the shine coming from both of them-deliriously happy in the picture.

“Yeah.” Edide admits to him. “I’m still happy.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/186630356@N05/49447592586/in/datetaken/)  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/186630356@N05/49447818852/in/datetaken/)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it!
> 
> Come hang with me on tumblr: caffeinateddaisybaby
> 
> Reblog the post here: https://caffeinateddaisybaby.tumblr.com/post/190488091305/title-bandaid-this-tweet-author


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